


Stohess Chronicles

by He_Can_Live_Online



Series: The Stohess Chronicles [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, M/M, POV Alternating, Underage Drinking, marco having trouble with doors, marco having trouble with not staring, nicknames galore, oblivious marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/He_Can_Live_Online/pseuds/He_Can_Live_Online
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bott wants nothing more than to stay under the radar and possibly make a few friends when he starts attending Stohess Academy. However, things won't go as planned at the boarding school when day one he enters his hall and Jean Kirstein enters his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first attempt at fanfiction.  
> I know some of the names have alternate spellings, but bare with me!  
> Tags/Archive Warnings will update as story progresses.

                Marco leaned back, attempting to rest his head against the wooden backing of the pew-like seating he occupied, squashed between two other students. With his eyes closed, he tried to block out the sounds of the Head detailing Orientation Week, tried to block out the hushed murmurs of eager students tightly packed around him, tried to block out everything.

                He had little success as he was jolted to full consciousness as the two strangers to his sides abruptly stood up. Shit, he breathed out and peeled his eyes open. Hundreds of students shuffled alongside him, lining up in rows that made little sense to him. Lost, he looked around, peering at the daunting auditorium with the high ceiling, and students with equivalent self-esteem.

                “Oi, you’re in Hall Orange, get a move on.” Marco turned to see a blank faced boy looking up at him. Seemingly short for his age, his shaved head and bright eyes made him look younger than he probably really was.

                “You slow or somethin’?” The boy chortled, raising thin eyebrows, a smirk hiding behind his expressionless image. Marco shook his head quickly, and turned and started to walk off.

                “This way.” The boy grabbed his uniform sleeve and pulled him into line. “Luckily you’re Orange like me. Most people wouldn’t bothered directin’ newbies to their hall.” Marco blushed heavily and stammered out a jumbled mess that resembled something between an apology and thanks.

                “Connie, Connie Springer.” The shorter male, Connie said, ducking into line a few spots behind him. Marco forced a smile but the boy had already blended into the crowd.

                So much for staying low, Marco thought, looking at his feet. The line began moving and Marco, brushing his short brown hair out of his face, looked up and followed the line sheepishly.

 

                “Marco Bodt right?” The Student Leader queried, not looking up from his clipboard. Marco nodded quickly, sensing he would be doing so a lot. He quickly sputtered out a “Yes”, noticing the Student Leader showed no interest in looking away from his page.

                “You’re in Room D3, fill out this form, it should have your roommate listed.” The student leader droned on, looking up from the page from behind bug like glasses and at Marco who stared back nervously. The wide, bug-like guy scrunched his brow, peering at Marco through his glasses and sighed.

                “I imagine you’re new here right?” He probed.

                “You’re imagining right,” Marco muttered, twisting his face at the reminder.

                “Listen kid- Marco- You’ve got nothing to worry about for a week, just learn your schedule, get on good terms with your roommate and starting classes should be a breeze.” He said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He lightly punched Marco on the shoulder and turned to the door. “See ya around kid.”

                Marco stared after him as he disappeared out the door, seemingly in a hurry.

                The pit in Marco’s stomach hadn’t disappeared, unlike the student leader. He had felt uncomfortable since walking up the steps to Stohess Academy. He had more reasons than the number of fingers on his hands and the freckles on his face to not want to be there. He didn’t do well with change and his reaction to change made him a nervous wreck, which was apparent to nearly everyone.

                “I’m just asking to be picked on.” He growled under his breath. He stood in the slowly emptying hall, with form in hand and sighed.

                I might as well get it over with, he resolved, biting his cheek. He gripped his papers firmly and made his way down the hall.

 

                He pushed on the door to D3, getting increasingly more nervous and the seconds passed. The door didn’t budge. He reached for the handle only for the door to swing outward. He stumbled back, avoiding the door and falling on the ground.

                A large shape crossed his vision as something fell onto him, pinning him to the floor. Struggling to get up, Marco tilted his head, confused, and tried to recollect himself.

                “Who the fuck built this stupid boarding school?!”

                The deep growl came from the person who seemed to have fallen on him.

                Marco stared at the tall, lanky boy semi-crushing him to death. His hair was nearly angry and rebellious as his attitude, a short dirty blond cut over trimmed sides. The boy met Marco’s gaze and glared back, his light brown eyes looking him up and down.

                “I, uh- ” Marco started, but the boy bounced back, springing onto his feet, face obviously burning.

                “Sorry about that.” The boy said, looking down rubbing his neck, his expression vastly softened.

                “It’s my fault, honestly I-” Marco tried to start again.

                “Don’t worry about it.” The boy cut him off rotating his body and feeling his back and cursing heavily. The scent of alcohol filled the air and Marco raised his eyebrows, still on the ground, more curious than nervous.

                Connie, the short boy from earlier stuck his head out the door of D3 and groaned.

                “Dammit Jean, you’ve had that bottle for a matter of seconds and you still find a way to screw thing up.”

                “Shut up shortie.” Jean growled, shrugging his bag off, peering up and down the hall.

                “Another bottle will cost extra, it’s my last one.” Connie went on, rolling his eyes. Connie looked down to see Marco, still sprawled on the ground observing the scene.

                “Oh!” Connie blurted. “Hey freckles.”

                Marco blushed. Freckles? He had been dubbed that nickname since grade school.

                Jean cradled his bag and shuffled back into D3.

                “You know this guy?” He asked, peering back over his shoulder at Marco. Connie nodded in affirmative and looked back at Jean.

“Well get up off the floor and get in here quickly, you must be my new roommate.” Connie said, not looking at Marco but motioned with one hand in the doorway.

What have I gotten myself into? Marco wondered, staring at the semi-open door. He sat up, brushing his hair down with his palms. The door swung open, nearly hitting him again. Jean stood in the door way, looking as sheepish as Marco had moments earlier. He extended his palm and grinned.

“Sorry about that, honestly.” Marco returned the grin, the smile coming naturally this time, and took Jeans hand and pulled himself up.

“Get in here and shut the door.” Connie hissed, seemingly wiping down the backpack Jean had been wearing earlier. Marco entered the room fully, standing behind Jean and taking in his new home.

 

His dorm was a decent size, large enough to accommodate a bunk bed with two desks sitting side by side and a rather large looking closet door (which Marco hoped also meant a large closet). His suitcases sat in the corner, next to the unmade bottom bunk.

“Dude, could you just cover me this time?” Jean pleaded, which seemed out of character despite being someone Marco had just met.

“No dude, I’ve got my own stuff, find your own or go dry, I could care less.” Connie snorted. He looked Marco up and down. “I chose the top bunk, if that’s alright with you.” He didn’t wait to hear Marco response but turned back to Jean and began going on about Jean’s ‘consistent ability to fuck things up on a regular basis’.

Marco moved around them, unpacking his clothes, bedding and personals.

“Whatever.” Jean huffed, scowling at Connie. “Ymir will just let me mooch off of her drinks.”

“She’s too nice to you.” Connie muttered, scowling back. “And Christa, while we’re on the topic.”

“It pays to be nice.” Jean said haughtily, and pranced around Connie to exit the room.

“You? Nice? Don’t make me laugh!” Connie called down the hall.

Marco sat on the bottom bunk, pretty much figuring out the situation. Connie tossed the soaked backpack in the furthest corner of the room and slumped into one of the desks.

“Sorry about that Freckles. Jean’s a handful.” He said dismissively.

“Marco- Marco Bodt.” Marco grumbled.

“Sure, sure Freckles.” Connie looked at Marco’s suitcases. “Ya know you don’t have to worry about setting stuff up on the first day right? C’mon, relax. What are you up to tonight?”

 

And that’s how Marco found himself at a party. He stood outside the door next to Connie, hesitantly. He’d never been to an actual party before and realized it was a mistake telling Connie so.

“You’re coming along.” Connie had reasoned definitively earlier.

“I won’t know anyone.” Marco had groaned in response, having no real argument.

“Nope.”

“But-”

                “Nope.” Connie spun around in the chair plugging in his ears.

                “Connie.” Marco pleaded, slouching against the bunk.

                “Nopeeeee.”

               

                Marco turned to Connie who gestured with his head towards the door.

                “Do you know how to knock?” Connie joked, staring at Marco’s hovering hand.

                “Cut it out,” Marco pushed back the feeling in his stomach. “Baldie.” Connie squinted up at him and shook his head.

                “I do the nicknames. Not you. Knock, Freckles.”

                Marco brought his hand down only to find it hitting plastic.

                “FUCK!” A boy with short black hair and the expression of a wolf stood at the door with a hand in midair and his drink on the floor. Marco brought his hand down, realizing he had knocked the drink from the boy’s hand.

                The boy stepped up to Marco, looking him up and down. Connie took this time to slip past them and into the party. Thankfully more figures emerged and the angry looking boy was dragged away.

                Marco stood outside the door, took a deep breath, still startled from the moment earlier, and stepped in, swinging the door behind him.

                The apartment belong to a friend of a friend of Connie’s and Marco immediately felt out of place. The living room was packed tightly and Connie was nowhere to be seen. Marco skirted the edge of the group and slouched down onto the couch, watching the party mildly interested.

                “-Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s never been to Stohess Academy before.” Marco perked up at Connie’s voice and looked to see a good half of the group staring right at him.

                “FRECKLES!” Jean barged through the kitchen and plopped down beside him, the plastic cup in his hand dangerously swishing around. A giggle came from Marco’s other side and he turned to see a petite blonde girl covering her mouth and smiling.

                “Jean, calm down, you’re the only drunk one here.” She laughed and looked over at the angry boy from earlier, who was hunched in the corner with a few others talking loudly. “Besides Eren, of course.”

                “YMIR’S DRUNK.” A tall girl, with her hair pulled into a ponytail shuffled over belligerently and pulled the girl from her seat.

                “Ymir, put Christa down.” Connie said, as the small blond girl looked horrified at how easily the taller girl spun her through the air.

                Jean leaned over to Marco as he took in everything happening around him.

                “Hey, hey. You’re new here, right?” Jean asked, raising a thin eyebrow mischeviously.

                “Yeah, more or less.” Marco stammered. Jean snorted, laughing heavily.

                “More or less, haha! I like your spunk guy, come on.” And he pulled Marco from the couch to the kitchen.

                Spunk? Marco thought as he was being guided by the drinks and snacks.

                “Pick your poison.” Jean said, throwing an arm around Marco. “Go on.”

                Marco looked from the bottles to Jean, staring.

                Jean’s face turned red and he pulled his arm back.

                “I’ve got something on my face, don’t I?!” He slurred, rubbing at his face.

                “N-no.” Marco stuttered, looking down.

                Jean dropped his arm, looking a bit embarrassed.

                “Whatever.” He stuck his hand in his pockets. “You do that quite a lot you know. The staring thing.”

                It was Marco’s turn to blush. He looked at Jean and then quickly back down.

                “I’m sorry. I’m new here and I’ve never been to boarding school. I’ve never been to a party. I barely know anyone and all I’ve done is get in the way.” Marco pouted.

                “Hey, hey! Don’t fret that stuff, everyone starts off new, and you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to; Christa and Mikasa don’t. And I don’t mind that you got in my way.” Jean blabbered, looking towards the party that was carrying on without them.

                “Thanks?” Marco said, more of a question than a statement.

                “C’mon, let me show you around. Introduce you to people. And stuff.” Jean said, more of an order than an invitation; and to prove this, he literally scooped Marco up and flung him over his shoulder and stomped out into the living room. Everyone collectively groaned at Jean bursting into the living room, shouldering a panicked Marco over his shoulder.

                “EVERYONE! MEET FRECKLES!”


	2. Chapter Two: More or Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco awakes the the next morning after the party to find Connie, his ride, had already gone home. Luckily for him, Jean arrives to save the day and Marco learns surprising information about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you again for taking time to read this! Please let me know what you think in the comments and make sure to check out my blog for JeanMarco and details on the next chapter release! Tags/Archive Warnings will update as story progresses.

Marco grunted, sitting upright on the couch he found he had sank into. Daylight was barely peeking through the curtains and light snoring was coming from all sides of him. Marco yawned and stretched, looking around the room.

At some point of the night he had crashed on the couch, obviously faring better than some of the others. Nearly all of the sleeping bodies were unfamiliar to him, due to meeting them briefly the night earlier. One face not among them, however, was Connie.

Shit, he muttered. He slipped on his jacket, which was draped over the side of the couch he was inhabiting. He careful made his way through the maze of sleeping teenagers and crept through the house to the front door.

He breathed in, thankful for a breath of fresh air, trying to push the gnawing anxiety of being stranded out of his mind .Still feeling exhausted, he leaned over the railing of the porch squinting at the sunrise, wondering how he was going to get himself out the situation.    

A small flurry of movement caught his eye and he turned, pulled from his thoughts. A groggy-looking Jean was perched on the railing of the opposite side of the porch, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth and his hair a frizzled mess.

“Yo.” Jean muttered weakly. Signs of a hangover was evident.

Marco nodded at him, thankful he had decided to stay sober the night before. “Have you seen Connie?”

“Not since Christa took him home,” He laughed. “He tried catching up to Eren as soon as he got there and that didn’t end so well for him.”

Jean put out his cigarette on the railing and flicked it into a stray ashtray a few feet over. “I reckon he’s sporting an awful headache right now. We warned him but of course…” Jean trailed off, scowling to himself and turned abruptly.

“Oh Fuck. He was your ride wasn’t he?”

“More or less.” Marco grumbled, pulling his jacket tighter around his body, wishing away the autumn breeze.

“I’ve got you.” Jean said, sliding down from the railing. “I’ve got to bring him back all his junk he left here anyways.”

Marco’s face burned. “I’m sorry to trouble you.” A wave of relief flooded over him, but was joined by a throb of guilt.

Jean waved his hand dismissing his apology. “C’mon.” He pulled his keys out, twirling them on a finger, shuffling to a silver jeep parked across the street in a lot that was more dirt than grass.

Marco followed close behind, hand shoved in his jacket pockets.

 

“Mind if we grab something on the way?” Jean asked, gazing out the windshield as he started the car. Marco shook his head, thankful his stomach hadn’t answered for him.

The ride was quiet, apart from the soft indie music coming from the speakers. Marco busied himself, playing with the drawstrings of his jacket.

They pulled into a McDonald’s parking space sometime later, Jean seemingly moving on autopilot. Marco hopped out of the Jeep and followed him in and to the register.

Despite interacting with Jean the most out of anyone at Stohess, Marco couldn’t entirely put a finger on him. Nor could he really form an opinion. Maybe it was partly due to the odd first impression. He peered over at the boy ordering beside him, trying to figure him out.

Jean suddenly turned his head to meet Jean’s eye. “What do you want Freckles?”

“S-s-sorry.” Marco stammered, looking down and reminding himself that he needed to stop staring at people. “It’s a habit.”

“Not what I meant.” Jean said, rolling his eyes. “I meant what you wanted to eat.”

“I can pay for-”

“Cut the shit Marco. Let me do this for you.”

Marco internally flinched, surprised that Jean had called him by name rather than his increasingly popular nickname. He rubbed the back of his neck. “A McMuffin is fine.”

Jean sighed grumpily and left Marco to his thoughts as he ordered.

“Thank you.” Jean halfheartedly thanked the cashier, pocketing his receipt. He turned and ushered Marco to a seat while he grabbed the food.

Jean slumped into the seat across from Marco, brandishing Marco’s salvation in hand.

“Thanks. I could practically drool.” Marco gushed.

“You’ve got a little on your chin.” Jean said, grin plastered to his face as he dumped out the contents.

Marco felt his face burn again, knowing he was blushing, and began to rub at his chin.

“I’m only kidding freckles.” He muttered, pushing food over to Marco. Marco looked down. It was a lot more than just a McMuffin.

“Nope.” Jean droned.

“I-”

“Nopeeee.” Jean droned on, looking up with exhausted eyes. “Don’t question it, dig in.”

Marco scowled at him. Sensing victory, Jean chortled and proceeded to find a new victim among his newly acquired food. Marco followed suit, pretending to not be enthused about the idea of food.

Marco looked up at Jean past his hash brown. Jean had lit up considerably, looking more energetic and lively. Jean met his eyes, sipping on a coffee.

“Among my endless list of talents, one of them is knowing when someone is looking at me.” He laughed lightly, waving his hand at the apology he knew would come from Marco. Marco looked to the side, the tips of his ears warming up.

Jean wadded up a napkin and flicked it at Marco. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Marco chewed thoughtfully and shrugged.

Jean nodded. “You’ll get to know everyone better in time.” He wiped his hand on his pants. “If we’re gonna be friends you’re going to have to deal with them regardless.”

                The comment didn’t go unnoticed by Marco.

 

                “Let’s hit the road freckles, our destination awaits!” Jean took one more sip from his coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. He slid over to the door, pushing it open and bowing deeply. “Right this way.”            

                “Don’t mind if I do.” Marco giggled, parading past Jean. The Jean from the day before was clearly back. Marco concluded he liked this Jean boatloads more than the tired droopy fellow from earlier.

                “Did you just giggle Freckles?” Jean waggled his eyebrows.

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marco mumbled, crossing his arms.

                Jean straightened up, hand over his heart. “I’ll take your secret to my grave.”

                Marco rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” He groaned sarcastically.

                Jean caught up with him, a mischievous grin stretched across his face. “Though being friends with me, I don’t think you’ll be able to avoid laughing.”

                Marco glanced at him sideway, laughing.

                “No giggle? Shame.” Jean slid into the driver seat trying to stifle a laugh.

                Marco looked over, eyebrows raised. “What?”

                Jean laughed lightly and turned on the car.

                “What is it??” Marco implored pushing at Jean’s shoulder.

                “It’s nothing.” He laughed out the words, grinning.

                An odd sense of realization hit Marco and he looked in the backseat. “Uh, weren’t you supposed to grab Connie’s stuff?”

                Jean’s grin went away and he looked back. There was a heavy silence and then both boys burst laughing.

                “Oh god.” Marco wiped tears from his eyes, giggling.

                “Told…you…so.” Jean said through laughter. Marco covered his mouth, trying to hold his giggles back.

                “Are you gonna turn back?” Marco intoned, laughter subsiding.

                “Fuck him.” Jean said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

                “You had no intention of bringing his stuff, did you?” Marco scolded.

                “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” Jean waggled his fingers on the steering wheel. “The world may never know.” Marco pinched his arm.

“OW!” Jean looked over and glared. “In case you weren’t aware Freckles, but I’m driving here.”

“Could have fooled me.” Marco laughed. Jean shook his fist at Marco. “Eyes on the road. I thought you were ‘driving here’?”

Jean put both his hands on the steering wheel, looking amused. “So you have a sense of humor. I wonder what else there is about you Freckles.” Marco stared at him, face burning. Jean looked over. “I mean apart from your giggling and tendency to stare and blush.”

“OW! Will you stop pinching me?!”

“Will you stop being a dick?”

“….No.”

Marco raised his hands threateningly, Jean furrowed his eyebrows. “I will turn this car around young man.” Marco waggled his fingers. “You better not dare pinch me.”

Marco crossed his arms in mock anger, pouting his lip.

“Cut that out.” Jean said, holding back laughter, glancing sideways at him.

Marco slouched deeper in his seat, lip stuck out more.

“Fine, fine. I won’t point out things you do.” Jean groaned looking at the road.

Marco smirked, and lowered his arms.

“Stare at me all you want. I know I’m hot.” Marco looked over to a smug looking Jean.

“OW! STOP PINCHING ME MARCO!”

“Eyes on the road Jean, eyes on the road.”

 

“I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Connie groaned sarcastically. Jean laughed, leaning against the door. Marco shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on Connie. “Why is everyone picking on me?”

“Bottom bunk’s mine, you said so yourself.” Marco practically sung.

“Well, whatever.” Connie moaned into his pillow. “Thanks for forgetting my stuff Jean.”

“What can I tell you? I can’t help my consistent ability to fuck things up on a regular basis.”

“That sounds grossly familiar.” Connie snorted from under the covers.

“Well you said it.” Jean said pointedly.

“Well, point proven, now leave me to die.” Connie whimpered. Jean and Marco grinned at each other. Jean beckoned Marco to the doorway.

“What’s your cellphone number? In case I need to contact you or whatever.”

“Uh- I don’t have one.”

Jean looked up from his phone, confused. “How do you even function?”

“Quite fine, thanks.” Marco snorted.

“Fine, fine.” Jean laughed. “Well, I know where to find you.” He let the door swing behind him without another word. Marco moved over to the desk and slouched in the chair and sighed.

Connie said something inaudible from the bed.

Marco turned. “What?”

“I said, he likes you, ya know. Which is rare even for him.”

Marco turned away biting back a smile. “He did say we were gonna be friends.” He said to himself more so than Connie.

“Friends? So you rejected him?” Connie questioned, attempting to sit up.

“Rejected?” Marco turned back, confused.

Connie slumped back down and pulled the covers over his head again. “Shit. Pretend I didn’t say anything then.” Marco got up and peered under the bunk.

“What are you talking about?”

“Go away, I’m hung-over and you’re almost as annoying as Eren.” Connie whined.

Marco grabbed a pillow from Connie’s bed and tossed it at him. “Answer me Baldie.”

Connie groaned and sat up, his hangover showing on his face. “I don’t know how you didn’t hear him last night, drunk and all, going on about how cute you were.”

Marco’s face burned. This was not what he was expecting to hear.

It was the last thing he expected to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments below or my ask box!  
> More views/comments = quicker releases!


	3. Chapter Three: Pushover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes begin at Stohess Academy and Jean finds that he can't avoid thinking about Marco all day and it seems during that very same day Connie and Ymir are up to no good and scheming something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the delayed release. The views haven't moved much since posting the first chapter but I'm sure it'll improve as I get back on schedule. This chapter is from Jean's perspective for once so you guys get a glance inside his head!

Jean drummed on the desk with his pencil, staring off into space. The room was filling up quickly and he had luckily gotten to class early to avoid the wave of students swarming to their first-day classes. With the sounds of papers flurrying, he looked up to see a blonde head buried beneath the horde moving to their desks. 

Christa squeezed past everyone, arms raised and clutching stacks of the class syllabus. The teacher sat at his desk, slumped and indifferent, probably waiting for class to officially begin. Jean smirked, this was definitely going to be an easy class.

He leaned back in his seat with a content sigh and proceeded to chew on the eraser end of his pencil. Christa skirted his desk with a smile, dropping the stapled packet in front of him with grace. He nodded to her, thankful to have someone he knew in class.

“Hey, is it just me or do you have the feeling this is going to be an easy class?” He chuckled lowly, eyebrows raised.

Christa tapped her chin. “It could go anyway.” She mumbled thoughtfully. “Hard or easy, I’m sure we’ll be able to do our best!” She smiled widely at him before moving to the next desk to pass out the rest of the papers. 

Jean smirked again. That was Christa for you. 

A low tone filled the air. Jean perked up at the bell that signaled the start of classes. He pulled out his notebook as the teacher stood up and began to narrate the contents of the syllabus. Easy class or not, Jean didn’t care for Laboratory Science courses and wasn’t intending on wasting his attention.

“Mr. Kirstein is it?”

Jean looked up from his doodle to the figure standing over his desk. The teacher was a man, who could have easily passed for his early thirties, with no significant features and dark eyes to match his dark hair and expression. Apart from the look in his eyes, Jean had had these types before and instantly pinned him as a pushover.

“What is it Teach?” He queried, sitting up and tried to look uninterested as the class looked on.

The teacher opened his mouth but Jean didn’t get a chance to hear what he had to say. The door burst open and a disheveled male stumbled into the classroom, uniform unbuttoned and tie hanging over his shoulder.

“A-a-apologies sir!”

Jean’s heart skipped a beat. He stared agape as Marco stood beside the door, bowing head down and arms at his side. The teacher grumbled and moved back to his desk.

Marco peeked up and then quickly shuffled to the empty seat on the other side of the room when the teacher cleared his throat. Jean wasn’t expecting to see the new guy that soon, or even at all. The course credit system worked differently for Stohess Academy and typically newbies transferring had to take alternate courses than typical students.

Marco sat in the far right back corner, head down and clumsily buttoning his shirt completely. Jean had the impression that a certain somebody’s alarm had decided to malfunction the day of first-classes. 

As Marco attempted to get himself together, Jean was pulled from his trance and became very self-aware. His hair had to be a mess, seeing as he paid little attention to it since waking. And having pulled on the closest clean-smelling shirt…He frowned down at his slightly wrinkled band tee.

He glanced back over to Marco. Marco was slumped forward on his desk, out cold. Jean stared transfixed. Marco didn’t give the impression of a slacker. Who was this kid?

Marco looked peaceful in the folds of his arms, his tanned freckled face almost smiling in his sleep. Marco’s short brown hair hung over his forehead in short curls and the only thing that came to 

Jean’s mind was the word cute.

Jean shook the word out of his head, sighing. Sometimes he surprised himself with how gay he was. A small finger prodded his shoulder and he turned his neck to see Christa frowning at him.

“Quit staring at him, it’s weird.”  
“I’m not staring.” Jean growled, flicking her pencil off the desk. The teacher looked up from the syllabus, eyebrows furrowed. Jean turned fully forward and glared down at the desk.  
“Just do something about it. Anything but staring.” She mumbled into his ear and went back to jotting down notes. Jean slumped in his seat, determined not to think about the sleeping boy who, only a few desks away, felt like a world away.

The bell toned again, resonating higher and shorter than the first. Jean saw Marco sit up abruptly in his seat and, in a flurry of motion, gathered his things and make for the door. The teacher shrugged and it appeared as the entire classroom followed Marco out the door moments later. Jean hung back for Christa.

“Sorry.” She squeaked, hopping through the lab stations after putting away demonstration equipment. Jean shrugged and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and followed her out of the classroom. “Thanks for waiting for me.” She said, smiling saintly.  
Jean was glad to have a reason to hang around. And on the plus side, Marco hadn’t noticed him at all. “Are you paying attention?”  
Jean looked down, pulling his unfocused gaze from the students passing through the halls. He shrugged at Christa.  
“I can’t believe you.” She huffed, her tiny angelic face squished into a scowl and her soft eyes now glared at him.

“He’s cute. I can’t help it.” Jean groaned. Christa feigned a look of disgust. “Well I have to get to class. Ymir’s waiting for me.” 

Jean rolled his eyes at the bubbly way Christa breathed Ymir’s name. He hurriedly said his goodbyes and rushed into a bathroom to fix his hair. He had only moments before his next class.

The day went smoothly with no sightings of the beautifully freckled boy that Jean couldn’t get off his mind. During lunch Marco was nowhere to be seen, which was odd and didn’t go unnoticed by Jean. Jean stuffed his textbooks in his bag and gathered his notes that he compiled with Christa. Moving moments before the bell, he quickly left Study Hall and strode across campus towards his dorm.

The crisp fall air momentarily stung his checks, a confirmation of the fashion choice of many of the students Jean had shared class with. This morning he must have moved on autopilot because he didn’t recall the weather being this cold.

He pulled his backpack further up his shoulder and began to walk quicker, regretting his clothing choice for the day. Through the filled lawn of green leafy oaks, he saw Marco walking at a snail’s pace towards the dorms.

Should I slow down and talk to him? Jean wondered. The chill air answered for him and he picked up his pace, keeping a distance between them.

Marco showed no notice, seemingly walking slower and staring at the ground, lost in thought. Jean’s chest felt tight and he felt his heart beat skip again. He turned back around and ducked inside the door, practically racing to his room.

Connie’s head stuck of out D3 as he passed it and Jean paid no attention to the words the short bald ball of annoyance had to spout. He reached his door and whipped out his key. In short methodical movements, he unlocked the door, slipped in and relocked it behind him.

He leapt over the shoes by the door and raced to his mirror. Jean proceeded to carefully flatten his hair with his palms, thinking of the train wreck appearance he made that day.  
Jean slumped down against the bunk bed. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t worry about how he looked or what people thought of him. And he definitely didn’t worry about what cute boys he didn’t have a chance with thought of him.

His closet door swung open and Reiner stepped out, sideways glancing at Jean. On his shoulders he had a large laundry basket filled to the brim.

“How goes it roomie?” Reiner quipped in his characteristic deep (yet oddly smooth and comforting voice).  
“Eh.” Jean grumbled, fishing his phone from his pocket.  
“Eh indeed.” Reiner said with approval and made his way out the door.

Jean peeked up over his phone in disbelief. How did anybody find time to wear that much clothing in only a weekend?

A “Toodle-oo.” was followed by the sound of the door shutting, leaving Jean alone in his room. The muscular blond meathead was sure to be going to his boyfriend Bertholdt’s apartment to be washing his clothes. Jean didn’t expect him to be back for a while.

His phone chirped and he looked back down to it.  
A text from Connie.  
Connie: [WHAT I WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU BEFORE YOU RUDELY IGNORED ME WAS THAT MARCO MIGHT QUITE POSSIBLY KNOW THAT YOU LIKE HIM]

Jean’s eyes widened and he stared at his phone horrified. He mashed his fingers against the screen. Connie picked up on the first ring.

“I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT THAT EXPLICITLY TO YOU.” Jean practically screeched into the phone. There was a moment of silence followed by an inaudible mutter. “What was that?”

“Rude for one thing.” Connie sassed. Jean clenched his jaw. He could picture Connie’s smug face as he said those words.  
“Answer me Baldie.”  
“Did you get that from Marco? Because I’ll kill you if you call me that again.”

Jean could almost throw the phone. His heart was pounding in his ears. How did Marco know? And worst of all, how could he face Marco again without him feeling uncomfortable about that piece of information.

“Connie, please.” Jean was practically pleading now.  
“You were blabbing it all last weekend, drunk out of your mind. I kinda let it slip, but even if I did we both know Ymir would have said something.” 

Jean gritted his teeth. Connie was right. Ymir loved gossip and one of her infamous hobbies was trying to play matchmaker. How could he have been so stupid?

“I’ve got to go Con, I’ll talk to you in a bit.”  
“Sure, sure.” Connie said, seemingly in a rush. “Dinner plans still on for the group?”  
“Yeah, I reckon.” Jean said. He had nearly forgot.  
“Good. Try not to look like a slob.” Jean frowned at the statement and the sound that followed. A female laugh. And more specifically, Ymir’s.  
“Whatever you’re planning to do, don’t.” Jean threatened.  
“Gotta go. Peace dude.” The quick sound of fumbling and Connie had quickly hung up.

Jean groaned, and slumped into bed facedown.  
He had a bad feeling about this and had an idea where Connie’s scheme was headed.

Despite knowing he was headed for a trap, he pulled on nicer clothing and a fresh spritz of cologne. He moved into the bathroom to brush his teeth, stepping over Reiner’s uniform in disgust. Jean wasn’t the most fashion forward person there was, but even he wasn’t going to wear a uniform when it was optional.

A soft rap on his door pulled him from the dullness of teeth-brushing. He finished up quickly and sprang from the shared bathroom to the door. Connie leaned against the wall.  
“I’m taking forever, I know, give me a sec.” Jean called out the door, slipping on socks.

Connie shouted something sounding like “Hurry the fuck up.” Before moving back down the hall and going into his room. Jean rolled his eyes and sprinted out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Taking a deep breath and adjusting his hair, he strode down the hallway towards Connie’s room.

“We can take my car.” Connie said absently, attention on locking his door. Jean lightly punched him in the shoulder enthusiastically. Sometimes Connie had his moments.  
“Hands off the merchandise.” He intoned, attempting to force a mobster accent.  
“Cut it out.” Jean, said laughing, following the shorter boy out of the building and toward the parking lot. Connie proceeded to draw imaginary pistols, firing off rounds into the air as he paraded towards his car. “Not in public! I can’t take you anywhere!”  
“You love me.” Connie whined, sticking out his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments below or my ask box!  
> The next chapter is already started and in Jean's perspective so let me know what you guys think!  
> More views/comments = quicker releases!  
> Hecanliveonline.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter Four: Boy Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir and Connie spring a trap on Jean, throwing him into a situation he can't avoid. Unfortunately for Jean, It's never been in his nature to handle many things with grace.

Jean absentmindedly flicked at the bobblehead on Connie’s dashboard.

“Cut that out.” Connie mumbled, looking the other direction scowling.

Jean grimaced in his direction and slouched further into the seat. They had been sitting in Connie’s car for what felt like almost an eternity.

“Why did Ymir have to take her own car?” Jean grumbled, looking around Connie’s car for more things to mess with. Connie turned up the radio (making sounds that Jean hoped wasn’t his ideaof singing).

“Fine. Don’t answer me.” Jean knocked the bobblehead onto the ground.

“Dammit Kirstein!” Connie’s voice was hardly audible over the radio.

Jean snickered and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I’m gonna stretch my legs,” he said pointedly, semi-jealous that Connie’s short height allowed him to sit comfortably in the prius. Connie nodded, either to Jean or the music.  
Jean slumped his way out of the tiny car and swung his feet down on the pavement.

The parking lot was fairly empty and the lights in the diner they arrived at were surprisingly dim from the outside. To be honest, Jean wouldn’t have thought it was even open if not for the small neon sign at the entrance flashing blue. He walked to the far end of the parking lot and sat a parking block.

Jean patted at his pockets, searching for his pack of cigarettes. He felt his lighter and realized that he had left them in Connie’s car.

“Shit.” He growled under his breath.

“Jean? Is that you?”

Jean nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound. He attempted to stand but tripped backwards over the parking block and fell back onto the concrete ground.

“Fuck.”

“It must be Jean, he’s cursing as usual.” A second voice followed.

Jean squinted at the dark, trying to make out the several shapes that appeared around him. They got closer and he realized that two of them were Ymir and Christa, the latter practically being dragged behind Ymir.

“Connie said you ran off?” Ymir said, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Jean shrugged, staring up at her and feeling very small on the ground. Ymir gave him a freckled smile and helped him up.

“Come on,” She laughed. “Eren and Mikasa have already reserved a table.”

Jean raised his eyebrows. No Armin? It was rare for any of them not to be together as a trio.

“He’s working.” Christa mumbled from behind Ymir, knowing what Jean was wondering.

Jean shrugged and followed them to the diner, a few yards back from Connie who was holding the door open with both arms.

“Hurry up guys! This door is soooooo heavy!”

Jean snorted and ran over to the adjacent door, holding it open for the girls.

Connie’s expression crumpled. “You’re awful Jean.”

The diner was much brighter than it appeared from the outside and had a warm, 70’s feel to it, light with neon lights and silver embellishments along the bar and booths.  
The hostess, a tired looking brunette, with a ponytail that looked longer than her patience, guided them over to a booth. She grumbled something about their server was on his way and quickly exited.

“Poor Sasha.” Connie whined empathetically.

“Why is it that you know everyone on this planet?” Mikasa muttered from behind her menu.

“That would mean Connie has friends.” Eren laughed from behind his own.

“You guys are much nicer when Armin is around.” Connie continued to whine.

Mikasa lowered her menu and gave Connie a sympathetic smile through her signature red scarf, parted her long black hair from her face and turned back to her menu.  
Eren scowled at Connie and flicked a sugar packet at him.

“Cut it out Jaeger.” Jean hissed.

Eren Jaeger turned to him, his expression almost as black as his hair.  
“Not in public.” Mikasa warned, not looking up from her menu.

“Hello I’m Marco, I’ll be your server to-“  
Jean looked away from Eren to see Marco, dressed in a servers’ uniform staring wide-eyed at all of them. Jean’s face instantly turned red.

“How did you guys know I worked here?!” Marco asked, face redder than Jean’s.

“Intuition.” Ymir whispered mysteriously.  
“We’re stalking you.” Connie laughed (which came off creepier than he probably intended).  
“Sasha told Connie, who told Ymir, who told all of us to come here.” Christa told him, passing a dirty look at both Ymir and Connie.

A plump, dark-skinned woman strutted over to the table, standing beside Marco. “Are these your friends dear?” She asked.  
Marco nodded, not looking at his manager, looking down at his notepad.

“Join them sweetie, I’ll get Sasha to cover your table.” She said, gently pushing him to the booth.  
“Uhh-“  
She shushed Marco and turned to get Sasha from the front.

Jean’s heart was in his throat.  
Marco looked down at him, the only seat available conveniently beside him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Marco queried, pulling at the stings of his apron, biting his lip.  
Jean shook his head. This boy is going to be the death of me, he thought.

Marco scooted into the booth beside him.

With the addition of an extra person the booth became a fairly tight squeeze but no one seemed to have an opposition to it.  
Jean stared down at the table, waiting for his face to stop glowing red.

“I, uh, forgot something in Connie’s car.” Jean said down to the table.

“Oh, alright.” Marco slid out of the booth and Jean quickly followed and headed toward the door.

“Wait, what are you gonna order?!” Sasha yelled after him.

“Surprise me!” Jean shouted back, thankful the diner was practically empty besides another table of teenagers in the corner.  
He made his way outside and ran to Connie’s car, thankful it was unlocked and grabbed his cigarettes.

He lit one and leaned against the car. He should have guessed this was going to happen. He shouldn’t have put it past Connie (and probably Ymir) to plan something like this. His phone went off.

Connie: [Dude wat r u doin]

Jean scowled at his phone, almost tempted to throw it. It was one thing for him to like Marco and have him not know about it, but it was another for people trying to form situations like this with him knowing.

Jean: [Smoking, what do you want?]

Connie: […]

Jean turned off his phone and returned to his cigarette, attempting to relax. This wasn’t like him to get nervous. He was starting to hate the effect Marco had on him.

“Hey.”  
Jean jumped, startled.

“You guys need to stop sneaking up on me, I can feel my heart giving out and I-“Jean turned to see Marco standing a few feet away from him, his hands in his pockets.  
“Oh. Hey.”  
“Sasha just placed the orders, so there’s no rush.” Marco muttered. “Though it’s not busy tonight so-“He trailed off.  
Jean looked away from him, for once wishing his cigarette was shorter.  
“Yeah, figured.” He replied shortly.

Why are you being like this, you idiot? He asked himself. Just act naturally.  
“Uh,” Marco scratched his head. “So I was talking to Connie the other day and uh-“He trailed off again.

Jean turned and raised his eyebrow.  
“I wouldn’t bother worrying about anything Baldie says to you.” Jean said through his cigarette. “He likes to spread rumors and gossip almost as much as Ymir.”

“Oh.” Marco looked surprised and looked down at the ground.

Jean glanced at him and looked back away.

“So what was it that you wanted?” Jean asked, barely managing to keep his voice from shaking.

Marco pulled his hands out of his pockets, fumbling with a small object, then catching it.

“I just got a phone and I was wondering if you still wanted my number, just ‘cuz-“ Marco trailed off a third time.

Jean looked at him, confused. He wasn’t staring like he usually did. And it was kinda odd that he’d trail off more than once. Did thinking Jean liked him make him nervous and uncomfortable? A pit formed at the bottom of his gut.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jean said, putting out his cigarette on the ground and flicking it into the distance. “Like I said, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, got it.” Marco said, still not looking up.

Jean walked past him into the diner and made his way to the booth.

All eyes were on him as he slid in next to Christa.  
“What?” He said angrily.

Everyone simultaneously shrugged and went back to their conversations. It was by the time Sasha brought the food out that he noticed that Marco hadn’t come back in.

“Where’s Marco?” He asked Connie, ducking under the plate Sasha was handing to Ymir.

“His shift was already over and he had plans after so he headed out, did you not see him?”  
Jean shrugged, the pit in his stomach growing larger and looked down at the plate Sasha put in front of him.

Pancakes. He hated pancakes.

He sighed, thinking about the series of events that occurred in the last hour, and picked up his fork to steal sausage from Connie’s plate.  
Connie smacked it off his fork with his own. “Oy, eat your own food.”

“How many times do I have to tell you guys I don’t like pancakes?!” Jean growled at him.  
Connie frowned thoughtfully and shrugged.

“I’ll give you some if you answer my question,” he teased, waving a sausage link in Jean’s direction.  
“What?” Jean muttered, glaring down at the pancakes in front of him.

“Did you tell Marco you liked him?”  
Everyone got quiet at the table, and for billionth time that night, all eyes were on him.

“I don’t know why you care, but I don’t like him.” Jean looked out the window but he could see Connie’s jaw drop a bit from his peripherals.  
“And you told him that?” Connie asked slowly.  
“Uh, yeah? What is it to you?” Jean grumbled. “Can I have a sausage now?” He pointed his fork at Connie.

“Jean, you’re an idiot.” Mikasa muttered, pushing her omelette to him, placing money down on the table and got up.  
“I’m not done yet Mik-“ Eren began but she pulled on his sweater and he followed her out the door, rolls in hand.

Jean sat there in silence. Nobody was looking at him anymore.  
What was going on?

 

Jean groaned and fell face-forward into his bed.

“What’s wrong? Boy problems?” Reiner began kicking at the side of his bed.

“Go away.” Jean grumbled.

“Actually-“Reiner began. “Do you mind if you went somewhere for the next hour? Bert is coming over.”  
Jean groaned even louder.

“Pretty pleaseeee.”

“I’m already leaving.” Jean groaned again into the bed and rolled out of bed onto the floor.  
He grabbed his laptop and keys and quickly went into the hall

He made his way down the hall and went to Connie’s door and began banging on the door.

“Hey Connie, open up. Reiner’s about to gay up the place and I-“

The door swung open and Marco stood there, eyes squinty, red and tired.  
“Oh.” Jean lowered his hand.

“He’s not here.” Marco said, not meeting Jean’s eyes. “He’s probably hanging out with Sasha now that she’s off work.”  
“Huh, the waitress? How does that not surprise me?”

Marco shrugged, mumbled something that sounded like “later” and shut the door before Jean had the chance to say anything else.  
Jean stood at the door, the pit in his stomach practically filling his body. He knew he fucked up earlier with how he handled the situation but he wasn’t understanding Marco’s reaction. What was going on in his head? If the way he was acting meant Marco would be like this, he didn’t like it at all.

Jean took a deep breath and banged on the door again.  
Silence…  
Marco opened the door once again.  
“What do you-“  
Jean moved through the door and pressed his lips against Marco’s.


	5. Chapter Five: Questions & Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jean's unexpected kiss, Jean bolt out of Marco's room and disappears. With Connie coming back with a guest and trouble unresolved, Marco takes a walk to clear his head and runs into someone unexpected, leading the night in an unexpected direction for him.

Marco opened his eyes.  
Jean stood inches away from him, staring into his eye.

“J-J-Jean?” Marco stammered, raising his hand to touch his lips.

Jean’s expression went dark and he moved back

Marco opened his mouth to speak again but Jean moved back, out the door and quickly down the hall.

I should run after him, Marco thought, but his legs were rooted to the ground.

I should do something…

After what felt like an infinity Marco gathered up his courage and took a step.

He pushed the door open and stumbled into the hall.

“Jean!” He called down the empty hall. Jean was nowhere in sight.

Marco ran down to Jean’s door, well aware his face was burning and very conscious of his heart pounding in his ears.

He held his hand up, hesistantly, and then brought it down repeatedly.

The door swung open and Reiner stood there with a towel wrapped around him, skin still glistening from the shower.

“Uh-I- Uh-“ Marco stammered, averting his eyes.

Reiner groaned. 

“I thought you were Bert.” He scratched his head. “What’s up Marco?”

Marco looked past him, seeing no sign of Jean.

“I was hoping Jean would be here…” He murmured, trailing off, feeling stupid.

Reiner shrugged. “I actually kicked him out for the night. Though he did stop back for a moment to grab his bag. Maybe he’s looking for Connie?”

Marco shrugged in return. “Unlikely, but thanks.”

Reiner gave him one of his signature huge smiles.

“No problem kid.” He brought down a huge hand and tousled Marco’s hair. “Everything alright? You seem a bit...off.”

Marco nodded, raising a hand unconsciously to fix his hair.

“See you around.” He muttered and headed back down the hall.

He could feel Reiner’s eye on his back but he trudged onward, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

The pit from his stomach came back, angry at himself for not trying to fix the situation, angry at Jean for not accepting his number, angry about the entirety of their friendship. Having Jean’s number would make it a lot easier to find him. He pulled out his phone to text Connie but stopped. Maybe Jean needed space?

Marco entered his room and banged his head against the door.

He had no clue what to make of what just happened.

His face was no longer burning but there was a funny feeling in his stomach, replacing the dark hole he had been harboring for the past while.

The phone still in his hand vibrated. He glanced down. Connie.

Connie: [yo I need the place tonight]

Marco slumped down beside his bed. The library was closed and with Jean missing, there was literally nowhere he could go. He sighed and moved to his bag, throwing his camera in it and slinging it on.

Marco: [On my way out now Baldie]

He turned off his phone, not waiting for a reply and headed out.

 

After several minutes of walking around, Marco still couldn’t clear his head or find anything photo-worthy to distract himself. He looked around.

Despite living at school, he still had no clue how to navigate it.

Marco cursed under his breath at his poor sense of direction and looked around.

He was some good distance beyond the art buildings but all he could see was sculpture garden and endless sidewalk.

Marco gripped his camera, shivering slightly at the cold. He lifted his scarf to his face and hurried toward the sculptures.

As he got closer, he was able to make out a figure a good distance away. He stopped.

Maybe I should turn back, Marco wondered.

Knowing he would be even more lost, he kept walking, figuring he could ask the person for directions.

Marco slowed his stride, hoping not to startle them and made his way closer.

He opened his mouth to greet them but stopped when he realized who it was.

Jean was sitting in the shadow of the sculpture, a large naked figure towering above him. He was leaning against its leg and against his own was a bottle of a liquor, unrecognizable to Marco.

Jean seemed oblivious to Marco, taking another swig of the bottle, flinging pieces of mulch from underneath the sculpture toward the more distant ones.

Marco took a deep breath, pushing out everything on his mind, pushing down the weird feelings inside of him, and walked over and stood beside him.

“Mind if I join?”

Jean looked up and Marco could see him more clearly in the light. His hair was messier than usual, pushed up and aside while sticking in various directions. His cheeks were red from the cold, he seemed to have had forgotten his scarf. Like his cheeks, his eyes seemed to be a bit red as well.

Had he been crying? Jean, of all people?

Jean opened his mouth to say something but only a small grunt escaped his lips. He shrugged and looked away, staring down at the ground.

Marco sat down, tucking his legs underneath him, and leaned against the sculpture.

Being this close to Jean he could hear his teeth chattering from the cold. Marco slipped off his scarf and went to put it over his shoulders.

Jean leaned away from him quickly.

“I’m fine.”

The sound of his voice wasn’t sharp or harsh but hollow. Despite this, Marco felt a pang in his chest.

Marco placed it on his knee, not bothering to put it back on, and remained silent.

They sat there silently, apart from the sound of leaves and Jean’s occasional sips of the liquor.

Marco peeked over, unable to make out the label on the dark liquid.

“Can I?” He asked, indicating towards the bottle.

“You’re kidding right?” Jean said, looking at him for the first time since averting his eyes.

Marco said nothing, but imagined there was a look in his eyes that answered Jean’s question because Jean handed over the bottle wordlessly, still watching him.

Marco looked down at the bottle in his hand and took a giant gulp.

A burning sensation filled his throat as he swallowed it down and he broke out into a fit of coughs.

Jean jolted, patting him on the back.

“Fuck, Marco! Slow down, you’ll kill yourself!”

Marco wiped at his lips with his gloved hand, ignoring the sound of Jean’s voice breaking at his name.

“S-sorry.” He muttered. He stared back down at the bottle. “Why do you drink this stuff?”

“You’ll see in a bit.” Jean said, laughing softly. Marco shrugged and took a more cautious swig.

“Do you wanna talk?” He asked, after forcing down another swallow.

“No.” Jean said abrasively. Marco bit back a smile.

Jean looked over. “You’re staring again.”

Marco took another swallow. “I know.”

Jean looked away and Marco noticed his ears were a shade redder.

They sat there in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth until Jean spoke up.

“Why did you follow me?” He asked, handing Marco the bottle.

“I didn’t. Why did you kiss me?” Marco replied, returning the bottle. Jean frowned.

“Because I like you. Were you starting to kiss me back?”

“I don’t know.” Jean froze, and looked at Marco who was staring off in the distance. Marco turned and motioned for the bottle.

“That’s not how this works. You answer a question, then you drink.” Jean laughed, holding it a few inches from his reach.

“I did.” Marco muttered, rubbing his nose. Jean rolled his eyes and passed him the bottle.

“I’m stealing your scarf, is that alright?” 

“Why have you been acting so weird around me?” Marco asked, pushing the scarf off his knee and towards Jean. Jean shrugged while wrapping it over his face.

“You make me nervous. Which practically never happens. With anyone. Plus I didn’t want to make things weird, I guess.”

Marco squinted at him but didn’t bothered to analyze it further.

“Why have you been acting so weird around me?” Jean asked him in return. Marco shook his head.

“My turn, remember?”

“You just went!” Jean exclaimed, looking flustered.

“You asked me for my scarf, remember?” Marco said grinning. Jean glared at him.

“I’m going to kill you.” Jean grumbled.

“You love me too much to hurt me.” Marco sang.

Jean’s face turned redder behind the scarf. “Shut it lameo and ask a question.”

Marco opened his mouth to ask a question but every thought in his head was fuzzy. 

“Jean, is this what drunk is?”

“What a terrible question,” Jean laughed, pushing his shoulder into Marco. Marco swatted at him drunkenly. “Wow, you are such a lightweight.”

Marco frowned and put down the bottle.

“I should probably stop drinking right?”

Jean nodded, smiling lightly. He looked down at the camera beside Marco’s hip and gestured towards it. Marco nodded.

Jean picked it up, going through the pictures and Marco watched his expressions. An odd glimmer gleamed in Jean’s eyes.

“These are really great dude, seriously.” He said, still clicking through them.

“Thanks,” Marco said through a blush. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he felt comfortable showing anyone his photos. Maybe it was the drunk that convinced him it was a good idea.

Jean stopped on a photo staring. Marco looked over.

“Oh.”

The picture was of Jean walking across the main courtyard at a distance, standing out against the lush green grass that trailed the sidewalk.

“Was this the first day of classes?” Jean asked him, still staring at the photo.

Marco shrugged. Jean glanced at him and handed the camera back, dropping the subject.

“Whose turn was it?” He asked.

Marco shrugged again. He has lost track a good while ago.

“How long were you planning on staying out here?” Marco asked, trying to suppress a shiver. It was Jean’s turn to shrug. He leaned against Marco.

“Until Connie was done doing the business with, presumably, Sasha.” He muttered, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh.” Marco said, taking another sip.

“You really should stop Freckles.” Jean muttered into his shoulder. “My turn?”

“With the bottle or questions?”

“All of the above?” Jean laughed, still not looking up.

“Let me take another sip, ask away good sir.” Marco said, raising the bottle to his lips.

“Were you starting to kiss me back?”

Marco froze, bottle to his lips. “You already asked that.”

Jean mumbled something and pulled the scarf further up his face. Marco nudged him.

“What?”

More mumbling.

Marco groaned. 

“I can’t understand what you’re saying Jean.” He said, leaning the bottle against Jean’s leg.

Jean mumbled again.

“Jean?”

“I asked, can I kiss you again?” He said a lot more loudly.

Marco sat there silently, face burning. The funny feeling was back in his chest and it wasn’t from the liquor. He stared down at Jean, whose face was still buried in Marco’s shoulder.

Jean lifted his head up.

“I can always tell when you’re staring.” He said.

“You’re good at that,” Marco grumbled, averting his eyes.

“It’s a talent.” Jean said standing up.

Marco watched as Jean put the bottle into his bag and zip it up. He pulled the scarf off and passed it to Marco.

“Thanks Freckles.” He said tonelessly.

Marco gripped the scarf, staring at Jean as he walked across the quiet lawn.

Jean was walking away again and it was his fault.

The only person he had felt any sort of connection to at Stohess.  
The first person who called him a friend and truly had meant it.  
The first person, ever, to have kissed him.

Marco lifted himself off the cold ground and ran to Jean.

His world flipped sideways and he found himself on the ground, having stumbled, drunk and confused.

Jean was getting further away.

Marco got up and began running again.

The scarf fell from his hand as he reached out and grabbed Jean’s jacket.

Jean nearly stumbled, startled, and turned to Marco as Marco pulled him closer.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Jean asked confused.

Marco closed the remaining distance between them, bringing his lips to Jean and cutting off his words. 

Despite the cold, Jean’s lips felt warm against his own and the odd feeling in his chest subsided as the two stood there, holding the kiss.

Marco pulled away shortly after that to see a bewildered Jean standing with his eyes closed.

“That’s the answer to your question.” Marco mumbled.

“You’re staring again, aren’t you Freckles?” Jean asked, eyes still closed.

“Like I said, you’re good at that.” Marco said, face burning from more than the cold, and looked down at the ground.

“You’re good at kissing.”

Marco looked back up.

Jean’s eyes were open and he was staring warmly back at him, smiling slightly.

“Can I ask another question Freckles?” He said, his face warming up as well.

“I-I- I guess.” Marco stuttered, looking away.

“Can I kiss you again?”


	6. Chapter Six: Waking Up

Marco opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light. He tried to sit up to get a better view but a jolt of pain shot through his neck and lower back.

                “Uh,” he groaned, tongue fuzzy and body feeling like cement.

                “Morning dork.”

                Marco sat up squinting, he was in the back of Jean’s jeep, leaning against a semi-awake Jean. The entire night came back to him and he flinched internally at how stupid he must have seemed.

                “Don’t worry you didn’t do anything stupid.” Jean mumbled, almost as if reading his mind. Jean’s hair was a frizzy mess hanging over his face, his hood was up, probably to keep him warm from the cold. His golden brown eyes were barely visible from under the hood.

                Marco scooted over, fully aware that he had been laying on Jean’s outstretched legs.

                “Sorry.” He mumbled. Another pain shot through him, though in his head this time.

                “You alright?” Jean asked, scooting forward, worry in his eyes.

                “I feel awful.” Marco whimpered, placing his face against the cool backside of the driver’s seat.

                “I told you to slow down.” Jean said accusingly, poking him in the side.

                “Cut that out.” Marco groaned, half-heartedly trying to pinch him with the hand he didn’t have held against his pounding head.

                Jean looked at his phone and frowned.

                “Well I missed my only class of the day.” He looked up at Marco, “What about you?”

                Marco shrugged. He didn’t know the time but what he did know was that he was much too sick to even consider going to class.

                Jean smirked, “Come on.” He slid out of the car, swinging the door open.

                Marco didn’t move, looking back at Jean.

                “Marco?” Marco smiled softly at the hint of concern in his voice.

                “Coming.”

 

                “I don’t even remember walking back to the car.” Marco grumbled, sprawled out on his bed.

                “Uh, you didn’t.” Jean muttered, not looking at him.

                “Oh god.” Marco sunk his face into his pillow.

                “I didn’t have to carry you too far.” Jean said, laughing lightly.

                Marco groaned.

                “Seriously dude, it’s nothing.”

                Marco looked up at Jean, who was sitting on his desk, absent-mindedly playing with Connie’s dreamcatcher hanging from the lamp.

                “Thanks Jean.”

                “No prob Freckles.” He said grinning.

                “Care to tell me how the rest of the night went?”

                “Oh you just professed your love to me, planned out our wedding, casual stuff…”

                “Wait- what?!”

                Jean burst into laughter, nearly falling off of the desk.

                “I’m kidding Marco, holy shit.”

                Marco glared, face burning.

                “Seriously Marco, you’re so dramatic sometimes. Honestly I-“

                Marco flung a pillow at him. Jean glared back.

                “Is this what I get for how nice I was yesterday?” Jean said, crossing his arms.

                “You being nice lead to me feeling like shit.”

                “Oooh, a curse from Freckles. This is serious isn’t it?”

                Marco rolled against the wall, looking away from Jean and proceeded to groan further.

                “Okay drama queen, I’ll stop.”

                Marco muttered something sounding like “Thanks”.

                Jean grinned, looking at the back of Marco’s head. “But seriously, you just got tipsy after running after me and couldn’t walk. We kind of just crashed in my car to escape the cold but after you fell asleep we kind of just spent the night there.”

                Marco had a dull recollection of the event now that he thought on them. Why had he run to Jean to begin with?

                “Why was-“ Marco stopped. He remembered why he ran after Jean.

                The kiss.

                The multiple kisses that followed.

                Marco’s face burned, glad Jean couldn’t see his face.

                “Well, anyway, I’m gonna go. I imagine Connie will be back later tonight, give him an earful for me.” Jean said, sliding off the desk and picking up his backpack.

                “Wait.” Jean turned. Marco had a hand hanging over the edge of the bed, gripping his pant leg.

                “Freckles?”

                Neither of them said anything for a good minute. Marco didn’t move, still facing the wall.

                “Nothing,” Marco said, after a minute, letting go of Jean, letting his hand fall.

                Jean dropped his bag, crouching down beside the bottom bunk.

                “What is it? Spit it out Marco.” He said, his voice stern and serious for the first time that day.

                Marco muttered something inaudible.

                “Stop muttering Freckles.”

                Marco muttered again.

                Jean sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

                “I feel awful.” Marco muttered, just loud enough for Jean to hear.

                “Want some more water?” Jean asked, looking over at the glass he had placed beside Marco’s bed.

                Marco shook his head (groaning after doing so).

                “Sorry dude,” Jean mumbled, looking back at him.

                Marco muttered again.

                Jean leaned in closer, starting to get annoyed.

                “I swear to god Freckles.”

                “Can you stay with me?”

                Marco’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t see Jean’s facial expression. His silence and lack of response sent his heart into his throat.

                “I don’t know.” Jean mumbled, looking away from Marco.

                “It’s cool.” Marco said, curling up against the wall. “I’ll see you later.”

                Marco bit his lip, his chest feeling oddly heavy. 

                “You’re so hard to read Marco.”

                Marco frowned to himself, closing his eyes, wanting to be asleep.

                He felt light movement beside him.

                Marco turned over. Jean had moved into the bed, laying on his back, staring at his cellphone. Jean looked over at him.

                “Why so wide-eyed Freckles?”

                Marco grunted, not sure how to respond.

                “Go ahead and get some rest, we can get something to eat when you wake up.”

                Marco nodded gently, ignoring the pounding in his head and closed his eyes, thankful to be in his own bed.

 

                Marco opened his eyes. The room was pitch black and quiet, apart from soft snoring. It took him a moment to realize that they were Jean’s and not Connie’s characteristic piggish snorts.

                It took another moment to realize that he was curled up to Jean, arms around him.

                Marco laid there confused.

                Why was he acting like this? Clingy and weird, almost.

                Did he have feelings for Jean? Like real feelings?

                There was a loud click, knocking him to his senses. The door slowly swung open and Connie stood in the hallway, holding it open and talking to what appeared to be Reiner.

                Marco shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

                Being asleep would be better than waking Jean up to the situation or even having to try to explain it himself.

                “Is that Kirstein?”

                “That’s totally Jean.”

                “Should we go?”

                “Uh, yeah…”

                “I didn’t know Marco swung that way.”

                “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t?”

                “Shh, let’s go to the library.”

                “Grab my laptop and quit bitching Reiner.”

                A loud crash resonated through the room.

                Marco opened his eyes to see Reiner on the floor, half the contents of Connie’s desk scattered around him and Marco’s glass of water beside his foot.

                “FUCK.”

                Jean sat up suddenly, flailing his arms.

                “What the fuck is going on?”

                Reiner and Jean made eye contact as Connie walked in, complaining about the mess.

                “Uh, you awake Marco?”

                Marco sunk his face into the pillow, face burning, wishing he were anywhere else but there.

                “Yes.” He mumbled loud enough for Jean to hear.

                “Let’s go get something to eat, c’mon.”

                “I haven’t showered yet and there’s a –“

                “Shh, c’mon.” Jean slid out of the bed and pulled Marco out into the hall after him, swinging the door behind him.

                They stood in the hall, wondering what could be going on in Reiner and Connie’s minds on the other side of the door.

                “Let’s go.”

               

                Marco sat in silence in the passenger seat, face against the cold window.

                “Sorry.”               

                Marco turned, staring at Jean.

                “Huh?” He blubbered ineloquently.

                “Sorry.” Jean said slightly louder, not looking away from the road.

                “What for?”

                “For putting you in a weird position, for everything.”

                “Jean, it’s not-“

                “Marco, don’t try to excuse it.” He said firmly.

                Marco pulled his face from the window and stared at Jean.

                “Stop staring at me, I’m driving.”

                “Am I distracting you that much?” Marco, mumbled, looking down at the cigarette butts in the cupholder.

                “Yes.”

                Marco turned and looked back at him again, speechless. Jean pulled into a parking spot and turned off his car. Marco watched him inhale and sigh.

                “You distract me so much that I can’t even concentrate around you or even act remotely normal when doing basic things. I don’t know why or how but you have that effect on me.”

                Marco’s face burned.

                “Jean, I-“

                “I’m sorry I have these feeling for you and I’m sorry I make our friendship complicated. I understand if you don’t want to be friends.”

                Marco sat there silently. Jean smiled weakly, but genuinely, at him and slid out of the car.

                Marco followed him into the diner wordlessly.

               

                “Order whatever you want.” Jean said, not looking past the menu.

                “Alright.” Marco mumbled. He stared down at the menu but was unable to focus on any of it. He knew the menu from front to back without looking at it (being one of the benefits of working there).

                “What would you two like?”

                Jean dismissed the waiter politely with a few word and turned back to his menu.

                “Is that Bodt?!”

                Jean and Marco looked up, trying to locate the voice.

                A larger male, probably a head taller than Jean walked over to the table with two others at his side. Jean looked over at Marco, who visibly slumped deeper into his seat. He pushed back his cropped black hair and grinned down at Marco.

                “So the rumors are true, you did transfer to Stohess.” The guys said, giving a throaty laugh.

                “Hey, Tom.” Marco mumbled, looking down at his menu.

                “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Tom said, faking hurt feelings.

                Marco shrugged, avoiding the newcomer’s eyes.

                “Since you transferred from school I’m sure the guys missed their old punching bag. I’m sure none of them are willing to go all this way to see you though.”

                Marco looked up and glared. “What do you want? I’m busy here.”

                The guy to the left of Tom snorted.

                “Gotten cocky, haven’t we?” Tom said, raising a thin eyebrow.

                Marco’s ears were burning. He could only imagine what Jean was thinking.

                “Why don’t you guys just go?”

                Tom’s friend snorted again and kicked the table, scattered a small handful of sugar packets.

                “You heard him.”

                Everyone turned to Jean.

                Jean’s eye were dark and he was now standing up, toe to toe with Tom.

                “Got a little boyfriend to defend you Bodt-boy?” Tom’s other friend sneered.

                “So what if he is? That’s none of your fucking business.” Marco practically growled.

                “How cute guys, the little faggot found himself a-“

                Tom’s words were cut off by a grunt from his mouth as Jean punched him square in the jaw. Tom stumbled backwards into the table. His friends looked from Jean to Tom nervously, unsure of what to do.

                “Enough of that, you kids get lost before I call the police!”

                Marco’s boss hobbled out of the kitchen, waving a broom.

                Tom made himself scarce quickly, scrambling over the table and out the door.

                Marco took a deep breath, suddenly aware he was shaking.

                Jean turned around, looking down at him.

                “You alright?”

                Marco nodded. Then shook his head.

                Fuck. He was going to cry. He stood quickly to make his way to the bathroom.

                Jean stopped him, pulling him close.

                “They’re just jerks I used to k-k-know. D-Don’t worry a-about-“

                Jean silenced him, leaning Marco’s head into his shoulder.

                “You don’t have to explain anything.”

                “But I do.” Marco said, barely holding back his tears.

                “No. You don’t.”              

                Marco lifted his head up, stepping back from Jean, staring back at him.

                “Seriously Marco, fuck those guys, whatever your reasons for transferring are none of my business but I would have done the same. Guys like that are bad news and honestly I wouldn’t-“

                Marco pulled Jean closer and pressed his lips against Jean’s.

                Jean hesitated for a fraction of a second before returning the kiss, pressing his lips against Marco’s own, desperately as if he were trying to memorize the feel of them.

                “Everything alright Marco?”

                Marco pulled away from Jean suddenly. His face was the reddest Jean had ever seen it.

                The waitress stood a few feet away, looking confused and concerned. Marco recognized it as Hannah, his coworker. Marco nodded quickly.

                “Uh, we’re gonna, um, go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He grabbed Jean’s arm and pulled him out the door.

               

                “What in the hell Freckles?” Jean asked incredulously, trying to make sense of the series of events that just occurred.

                Marco pulled him through the parking lot to his car.

                “Get in.”

                Jean raised his eyebrows and wordlessly moved into the driver’s seat.

                Marco moved to the other side, his heart pounding harder than it had in a long time. He shut the passenger door behind him and slumped into his seat, wiping the tears from his face.

                “Uh, Marco?”

                Marco turned to Jean.

                “I can’t pretend to understand how I feel about you or pretend to know how whatever this thing that were doing is going to work out, but I do know that I want you in my life and I don’t care if it gets weird or complicated or whatever.”

                Jean nodded silently.

                They both sat there staring back at each other.

                Jean broke the silence first after a minute.

                “So what now?”

                Marco leaned in forward to continue their kiss from earlier.


	7. Chapter Seven: Whatever This Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean reflects on the night prior with Marco. Despite juggling schoolwork and life, Jean still has to figure out where he and Marco stand. In the meantime, midterms are drawing nearer for both Marco and Jean (and another one of Ymir's infamous parties).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the late update. I lost my computer with the addition of two chapters so I had to rewrite most of it from memory. This chapter is a bit slower but also longer than usual. Things will pick up next chapter (which will release fairly soon) Hope you enjoy!

Marco leaned his ear against the door, listening carefully. Connie’s snores filled his ear with a stuttering beat as relief filled his heart at the same rate. He quickly extracted his key from his pocket and stealthily unlocked the door, slithering his way into his dorm room.

He tiptoed his way over Connie’s belongings (wincing internally over the fact that Connie made no effort to pick them up) and slid into bed, not bothering to undress. Laying on his back he took a deep breath and tried to fall asleep.

Typically Connie’s symphony would lull him to sleep, like a television or rain in the background, but each warbly snort dragged him further and further from sleep

and closer to consciousness. Closer to his thoughts. The same thoughts that, as much as he enjoyed them, were going to keep him awake and cloudy-headed.  
Marco pulled his phone from his pocket, hoping for a text from Jean, wondering if Jean was doing the same. He frowned to himself but the memories of the events from earlier curled the corners of his lips. He rolled over onto his side, hoping for sleep, and sighed the first of a long string of sighs.

* * *

 

Jean flung his door open, shielding his eyes.  
“Nobody fucking better be naked in here,” he hissed, attempting to navigate through his room. Muffled laughter came from the general direction of the bunkbed and Jean scowled deeply.  
“’S all good Kirstein,” Reiner’s deep voice chortled. Jean peeked from under his arm and saw Reiner in a haphazard pile on his bed, practically crushing Bertholdt. On top of that pile was a bottle of wine.  
“Date night. Cute.” Jean said with a sarcastic drawl. It really was cute but he wasn’t going to admit that. Bert smiled nervously from under Reiner, seemingly unaffected by the hulking blond giant that was cradling itself on him.

“Stay for the movie, we’re only a few minutes in. Besides, date night was two nights ago.”  
“Thanks for the offer but I have some late night studying to do.” Jean replied, pushing his textbooks in front of the door with several careless swings of his foot.  
“Oooh, fun! Have you finally settled on an area of study?” Bert asked, genuinely interested.  
“Yeah, Jeannnnnnn. Find any area of interesttttt?” Reiner slurred at him from the bed, dragging out his name and putting a strong emphasis on the word interest.  
Jean rolled his eyes.  
“Go home Reiner, you’re drunk.”  
“I am home.” Reiner muttered drunkenly (and possibly even unsure)

Jean snorted and grabbed his textbook.  
“You guys have fun,” He turned to Bert, who seemed to have sank deeper into the Reiner-wine-pile, “Don’t let him get too out of hand, we all know how he gets.”  
Bert smiled weakly, eyeing the bottle of wine (which Jean noted wasn’t the first, as he had nearly kicked over what suspiciously looked like two more by the bedside). Jean glanced at the screen, some horrific mash up of blood and falling buildings filled the screen. He had no interest in sticking around to see how that cinematic mess ended.  
Nodding, he grabbed his stuff, slipped on his jacket and made his way out of the dorms and into the cold.

He found his place of sanctuary in the sculpture garden, settling beneath Stohess’s sleeping giant. Pulling out his textbooks he settled on covering his history studies. Midterms were coming up, despite how little time had seemed to pass.  
Jean leaned leaned against the sculpture, the cold metal startling his skin through his jacket. He flinched from the touch. Cold, so cold.  
Like Marco’s hands. They were always freezing. Not that he had the opportunity to touch them frequently. Just the little things, like exchanging things, accidental touches.

All things he thought were meaningless to Marco before but-

He shrugged, pushing thoughts of Marco out of his head and turned to the textbook pages, trying to get lost in the world of ancient Mesopotamia.  
He had a few minutes of success before he felt a dull sensation against his leg. His cellphone.  
His hand moved for it without a thought. He naturally assumed it was Marco. He was incorrect.

Reiner: [You’ve hab some explening to do]  
Despite the odd prod in the gut at his recollection of earlier, Jean couldn’t help but laugh at Reiner’s drunken attempt at interrogating him.  
He stowed his phone in his pocket. How would he even explain it? He didn’t really understand himself.

* * *

 

“What are we even doing?” Marco had said, pulling away from Jean after several minutes to catch his breath.  
“W-w-what do you mean?” Jean breathed, staring back at him from the driver’s seat. Marco looked out the window, cheeks glowing red. He shrugged.  
“I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I don’t even know if I’m-“ He trailed off.  
Jean fully understood what he meant and nodded slowly.  
“I get it,” he had mumbled hollowly, feeling as if they had taken a huge leap forward and then quickly two leaps backward.  
“N-N-not like that.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like that.”  
“You know,” Marco said, turning and meeting his eyes.

At that moment Jean’s heart had stopped. He was used to this, Marco staring, but this was a different look. It didn’t mean anything more or anything less but it felt different, maybe with a certain intensity that wasn’t there before.  
“Whatever.” Jean mumbled, face burning, looking away.  
“I really wish you wouldn’t mumble.”

Jean looked up to Marco’s grinning face, the glow in his eyes still there, unmoved. The edges of his lips pulled up, pulling on Jean’s heartstrings. The lips he just kissed moments before. Jean shivered, not sure from the cold or something else entirely.  
“Whatever this is, can we uh-“ Marco stumbled over his words, “-take it slowly?”  
Jean nodded, taking the words as a small victory.

Marco moved his hand, it hovered between the driver and passenger seat for a moment before he withdrew it back to his lap. The action didn’t go unnoticed to Jean.  
“Wanna grab something to eat still? That was a lot of excitement for one night and my stomach is going wild.” Jean said softly, carefully laying his words, trying to keep Marco from pulling away.

Marco seemed to consider it, his mouth opened, his soft lips parting-

Jean internally screamed, trying to get himself to focus and partially scolding himself.

Marco nodded wordlessly.

They had found themselves in the McDonald’s drive-thru, two cigarettes and just a handful of words later.  
“You shouldn’t eat and drive,” Marco said pointedly as Jean attempted to consume an unrealistic fistful of French fries. Jean rolled his eyes.  
“Of all the things I do and you criticize the harmony of french fries and driving?”  
“Besides punching strangers you don’t really do much,” Marco snorted, plucking one of Jean’s fries from his hand.  
“I smoke for one thing, that’s probably gonna kill me before a French fry related car accident. I drink way too heavily for someone who shouldn’t be drinking at all. The list could go on my good Marco.”

Not to mention crushing on boys who he’d never imagine he’d have a chance with. Or rushing out into the cold, drunk, at late hours of the night. The list certainly could go on.

“You do have a point.”

Marco tossed his garbage into the empty bag.  
“Despite how much I slept today, my entire body feels run down.” Jean nodded at his words, remembering the first few times he had drank.  
“Get some more sleep, you’ll feel better.”  
Marco nodded, yawning and slouched into the seat, seemingly already asleep.  
Jean raised his eyebrows. He had meant in the dorm but Marco took the words to heart. Today was a long day for him so he certainly wasn’t completely surprised. (Plus there was something about McDonalds that always made him exhausted).

Jean smiled to himself, left to his thoughts, although not entirely alone with them, as the boy who he had so many feeling for was only inches away asleep.

 

Jean peeked his head into the door, cold and tired from studying, looking for salvation in his bed. Reiner was out, snoring heavily and drunkenly on his own bed. Bert was nowhere in sight. Jean marveled at his moment to slip in unnoticed and dived into bed.

He looked at his phone. Nothing from Marco.

Did he sleep after Jean had dropped him off? Or was he awake, mulling the past few days over?  
There was so much he was feeling, so much he had to say.  
All for the boy who was asleep down the hall.

“He was drunk, it was nothing.”  
“I swear if you’re hiding something from me Kirstein I will smite you with the greatest smite a man could smite a man with.”  
Jean turned abruptly, startled at Reiner’s words.  
“Get to class you giant oaf.”  
Reiner frowned deeply at Jean, before whipping out his phone and taking a sharp turn. It was obvious he was sending out a mass text.

That gay gossipy bitch.

Jean slouched down at an empty seat in the library, feeling a sense of freedom. Reiner had been trailing him all day inquiring about when he walked in on Jean and Marco’s post-drunk cuddle session. It felt practically cleansing to be free of him.  
The day had gone as usual, the occasional text from Marco (who still didn’t fully embrace the concept of a cellphone and insisted on calling in response to every one of Jean’s texts), his regularly scheduled classes, and the looming sensation of longing for someone so close and yet so far.  
Many of Jean and Marco’s class times conflicted, apart from a single one, so it was rare for them to see each other during the day unless they both deviate from their schedules.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Jean couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt, particularly due to the fact for nearly dragging Marco out of the gay (or bisexual) closet that he wasn’t even entirely sure that Marco was in. Did he turn him gay? Or was this some type of appeasement to keep Jean around as one of his few close friends?  
Jean looked around the library, it was practically empty and he was thankful for a chance to have a quiet moment to escape to his own thoughts.  
That was much harder to find when you shared a living space with a bald human-megaphone.

Hopefully his words got back to Connie and everyone else meddling in his feelings. Reiner can never keep his mouth shut about anything. He’d do almost anything to spare Marco from further complication while they sorted out ‘whatever this is’.  
His phone vibrated. He hesitated; a majority of his friends were in class (particularly Marco).  
He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket.  
It was Ymir.  
Ymir: [Hey idiot, party at my place this weekend, bring friends]

Jean stowed his phone back in his pocket. He should probably chip in considering how much he drank at her party at the beginning of the year. He momentarily considered texting his mom but shook away the thought. She wouldn’t mind another credit card transaction.  
He pulled out his textbook. Maybe he should bring Marco along. He grinned to himself, doubting Marco would be too eager to get drunk again… Probably not.  
It was odd, he was actually looking forward to this.

With a content sigh he delved into his text. All the small thoughts were heavy and persistent, especially altogether, but Jean pushed them aside to deal with later. Marco, partying, figuring everything out… It wouldn’t be possible if he weren’t in school.

And with Marco swirling around his head all day he really needed to learn how to prioritize.

* * *

 

The week ended without incident and Marco found himself laying on his back in his bed, staring at the vacant bunk above him. He had seen little of Jean all week (and very little of everyone else for that matter). Midterms were coming up so it was understandable.  
But it still wasn’t desirable.

The door swung open with a deafening thud and Marco had to use all his strength not to wet himself.  
“I’M HOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”  
“God, you’re so loud,” Marco groaned, tossing a pillow at the bald silhouette that entered the room. Connie snorted, flicking on the light.  
“Oi, quit moping around and get up, you look pathetic.”  
Marco winced, coming from Connie it seemed a lot worse when he considered it.  
“I am not moping.”  
“That’s what a moper would say.”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”  
“I’m pretty sure you haven’t done anything productive all day.”

Marco opened his mouth to reply but shut it quickly. He hadn’t. He rolled over to the edge, ignoring Connie and looked at his phone. Nothing.  
“Jean and I are practically the only ones you text and he’s studying and I’m here so…” Connie said, dumping the contents of his backpack on his bed, eyeing him.  
“You make me sound so pathetic.” Marco groaned, smashing his face into the pillow, hoping it would magically gain the will to smother him in response.  
“If the boot fits or whatever.”

“What boot?” Marco looked up at the unexpected voice. Jean was standing in the doorway, slouched slightly from the weight of the books in his bag and obviously very tired.  
“I picked up the alcohol for tonight,” Connie said in Jean’s direction, still attempting to sort through his bag and scattered notes. Jean nodded tiredly, turning his gaze onto Marco.  
“Yo.”

Marco prayed that in the shadow of the bunk bed that Jean couldn’t see the stupid smirk on his face. Yo? Who says that?  
Jean tilted his head lazily, “Are you laughing at me?”  
Marco waved his hand, dismissing the idea, trying to suppress laughter.  
“Well come here, I need your help.”  
“If you insist,” Marco groaned.  
“Good.” Connie interjected, “I don’t think he’s moved all day.”  
Marco shot Connie a glare and followed Jean to his room.

 

“What’s up? Need help getting ready for the party? We still have a few hours and I honestly-“  
Jean pushed him up against the door suddenly and pressed his lips against Marco’s. Marco felt a groan rise in his throat as Jean cupped his hand against his face, pressing urgently and warmly into Marco.  
It all happened suddenly and Marco didn’t have a spare moment to breath.

Did he even want to at this point?

He opened his eyes as Jean pulled away, his lips and face warm from Jean’s touch. He was literally breathless. Marco leaned completely back into the door and took a shaky breath.  
“Well hello to you too,” He said with a smile. Jean grinned.  
“I’ve been holding that in all week.”  
“Maybe you could have seen me at some point and you wouldn’t have to.”  
Jean raised his eyebrows, “Are you saying that you missed me Marco Bodt?”  
“No.” Marco said, wrinkling his nose. He looked up to meet Jean’s eyes. “Okay, maybe a little.”  
Jean yawned happily. “Knew it.”

Marco made his way across the room and plopped down on Jean’s bed.  
“What a stunt. You’re lucky Reiner wasn’t around to see it, he’d be on the front page in a heartbeat.”  
Jean grinned back at him, sliding onto the bed next to him.  
“He’s already at Ymir’s helping set up, I’m not dumb.”  
“You say that but…”  
Jean turned. “But what, butthead?”

Marco returned his grin. It was amazing how much his day improved around Jean without him having to do much of anything. Marco sighed, leaning back against the pillows.  
“You know I kid.”  
“Oh course I do Freckles,” Jean murmured.  
“So who’s going to the party?” Marco asked, not really too concerned at the guest list but more so wanting to hear Jean talk. He had been excited all week about the party (despite acting nonchalant) and hearing his voice beyond a phone speaker was more than Marco could ask for.  
“Uhm, the usual crowd? Lemme check,” Jean mumbled, scrolling through his phone.  
Marco glanced at his own phone.

Not much going on there.

He glanced over at Jean’s pile of textbooks on the desk. He was positive more than half of them were in Jean’s bag as well.  
Marco frowned, feeling a small pang of guilt. Jean probably needed to be studying right now. (Honestly he did too, but luckily for him he had easier classes to take). Marco selfishly pushed the feeling away; he had lost Jean for an entire week to schoolwork, Jean deserved a break (and Marco deserved to see him).

Marco tore his eyes away from the contents of Jean’s dorm and turned to him.  
Jean’s eyes were closed, his phone laid on his chest with his hands gently draped over it. A lump rose in Marco’s throat, Jean had been obviously tired but had chosen to spend time with him.

Marco sighed, they hadn’t had much time to figure what their relationship was or how they felt about each other (particularly with Jean being a victim of his academics) yet that warm bubbly feeling never left him when he saw (or even thought about) Jean.  
Marco looked at the time, listening to Jean’s soft snore in his ear. They had plenty of time to rest before the party. Marco rolled over and studied Jean’s face. Before it had been so tense and worry-filled beneath the carefree demeanor but lately that look had softened despite the schoolwork and ‘whatever this is’.

Marco hesitated, considering, and then curled up against him. Jean mumbled in his sleep, the ghost of a smile danced on his lips. Marco smiled at the boy beside him, sighing happily.

‘Whatever this is’ must be doing something positive for Jean. It was doing the same for him. He could wait to figure how he felt about Jean and vice versa. Sure it was complicated, and so was life, but for now Marco Bodt was happy.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Party (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir's party begins, starting off with Jean and Marco skirting around the fact that they have a "thing". What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! Here's an early release of the next chapter to make up for the huge gap between 6 and 8. Hope you enjoy! Please leave kudos, comments and feedback!

Jean’s eyes flew open and he sat up with a start. He hadn’t intended on falling asleep.

“Marco?” He said to the emptiness of the room. A hollow feeling filled his gut.

Jean frowned, rubbing his eyes. Had Marco gotten nervous (uncomfortable?) and decided to ditch? Jean checked his phone. No messages. He rolled out of bed with a grunt. A light, crinkly sound filled his ears as he did so.

Looking beside his pillow he found a small neatly folded paper sat inches from where his head had been moments earlier. The hollow feeling left Jean’s gut, despite not knowing the contents of the letter. He quickly scanned it.

_Jean, sorry for leaving so suddenly. I’m going to grab a bite to eat and shower before the party. Don’t worry if you’re not awake by the time I’m done I’ll come by and get you. Looking forward to tonight!!!!!!! -Marco_

Jean couldn’t help the stupid grin that stretched across his face; he pressed his forehead to the top bunk, smiling like an idiot.

Leaning back, he looked at the time. Not much time had passed. With a yawn he grabbed his keys and headed down the hall and to Marco’s room.

“Marco?” He repeated, looking around. Neither Connie nor Marco were anywhere to be seen but Jean spotted Marco’s phone and keys on the desk. Marco couldn’t have gone far.

Jean headed to the door, wondering if Marco was grabbing food with Connie when the doorknob flew out of his grip, hurtling him to the floor.

“Ow, fuck-”

Jean cut his words off when he realized he wasn’t in fact on the floor but had made contact with skin. Marco’s skin.

Marco laid sprawled out on the floor in his towel, face burning crimson behind his freckles. Jean opened his mouth to speak but a pathetic squeak came out.

Marco was fresh out of the shower, wet hair clinging to his forehead and water droplets on his bare skin. Jean also noted that Marco had a good amount of definition to his body, despite the impression the clothes he typically wore gave.

Jean quickly met his eyes, tearing his own from Marco’s waist (on which the towel was wrapped carelessly, leaving very little to the imagination).

“J-J-Jean,” Marco stammered, staring back at him, eyes wide.

“Uh, hi, I woke up, you were gone, uhm.” Jean quickly backpedaled and stood up, his heart racing. He outstretched his hand to help Marco up, making a point of looking away.

“It’s all good.” Marco said, laughing weakly. “Wanna come in?”

“Uh,” Jean turned back to him, pulling him onto his feet. “You sure?”

“There’s no need for me to be shy around you,” Marco said, avoiding Jean’s eyes.

Your mouth says one thing but your freckled cheeks say another, Jean thought. He nodded, averting his own eyes, and followed Marco into his room. He closed the door behind him as Marco rummaged deep in the closet.

“Sorry for just barging in, I thought you were home.” Jean muttered. Marco stuck his head out of the closet, laughing. “It’s all good, really. You probably would have walked in on me naked if you woke up any later.”

“Uh, true.” Jean mumbled. Marco turned his back again, pulling shirts down from the shelves. Jean watched him.

He hadn’t realized how broad Marco’s shoulders were, or how muscular his back was. What surprised him most was the fact that Marco had freckles spread sporadically over his body. How many freckles did this boy have??

Marco slipped the towel off without warning to Jean’s greater surprise. Jean had snuck many peeks at Marco’s butt before but he had never seen it bare. And he most certainly had never seen the endless spread of freckles on his well-curved ass.

Jean turned away, face burning. He could definitely feel a rising in his pants. He pulled out his phone, attempting to distract himself. Facebook, Instagram, anything…

“What are you doing?”

Jean’s heart skipped a beat. Marco’s lips were inches from his ear as Marco peered down at his phone. Jean fumbled with his phone, dropping it on the floor.

“Jesus, Freckles, you scared the shit out of me!”

Marco grinned (now donning clothing on his lower half). He picked Jean’s phone up and dropped it in his hand before moving to pick up his own.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a lot of freckles on your butt?”

Marco turned. “JEAN!”

“Just _sayin_ ’,” Jean mumbled behind a smile. Marco frowned at him, hitching his pants up an inch higher.

“Don’t you have to get ready as well?”

“Whatever,” Jean grumbled, not really caring if his comment had ruffled Marco’s feathers. Personally he thought it was cute. “Meet me by my car in half an hour?”

Marco nodded, moving to his closet again. In the light Jean could see that Marco’s face was red.

“You blush a lot, you know that?” Jean said, halfway out the door. Marco turned with a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know that I notice when you stare as well?”

Jean squeaked awkwardly and shut the door behind him, mentally punching himself in the face.

 

 

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” Jean said, turning down the radio (to Marco’s obvious displeasure).

“Hey, I like that song.” He said, pinching at Jean’s hand on the volume knob.

“Fine, dick.” Jean, turned it back up. “We’re almost there.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious.” Jean gave Marco a side-eye glance. When did he get so sarcastic? Jean rolled his eyes.

“But seriously, Freckles.”

“I know,” Marco said beaming. “But I want to. And I want to get to know all your friends better.”

Marco looked out the window, smile still on his face. “And I want to know you better.”

“Freckles, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Jean mumbled. That fucking smile. One of these days he was going to swerve off the road from staring at it too long.

They pulled up to Ymir’s house. Jean cut the engine and grabbed his bag and cigarettes. “Be on your best behavior Freckles, we all know how you get.” Marco’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“You’re one to talk.”

They stood outside the car, gazing at the house. Marco turned to Jean, his signature smile still plastered on his face. “Just reminding you, you don’t have to drink if you-“

“Shut up.” Marco said forcefully. “Come here.”

Jean shut up and walked over to the other side of the car. Marco glanced around, and turned to Jean and planted a quick peck on his lips. “Thank you for bringing me. Tonight’s going to be great. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” Jean mumbled, glancing at the house. It was partially true. There was a small knot in his stomach that had been building up all day. He felt Marco’s eyes on him, then his touch. Marco rubbed Jean’s arm.

“It’s written all over your face.” Marco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jean’s own, longer than before.

Before Jean got to relish the sensation the door began to swing open. Marco and Jean separated, each leaping back several feet. They both turned to the door as Mikasa walked out, heading to her car. She noticed them and detoured in their direction.

“How long have you guys been here? We’re just getting started.”

“H-H-Hey Mikasa,” Jean stuttered. Fuck.

She raised her eyebrows, looking him up and down, and skirted off to her car.

“Let’s go,” Marco said, hand in pocket, still perky. Jean nodded, following him. Marco met his eye and Jean was washed with a wave of relief from his expression. Marco seemed at peace despite narrowly being seen. Jean pushed the thoughts aside and followed him into the house.

* * *

 

Marco entered the party, feeling less unsure than he had the first time. Familiar faces glanced up at him, many of which were smiling. Connie shouted to him over the sound of angsty indie music playing in the background. Marco smiled to him. He turned to Jean, who also was looking in the same direction.

Jean moved close to him and they brushed arms. “I’ve got to bring the liquor over to Baldie, get comfortable, I’ll find you in a bit,” He murmured, just loud enough for Marco to hear. Marco nodded. Jean flashed him a quick smile and headed in Connie’s direction.

Marco headed over to a familiar face, Bertholdt.

“Hey, I remember you, Marco right?” Bert smiled, though he looked nervous. Marco nodded. He didn’t seem like the partying type.

I don’t really seem like the partying type myself, He thought reflectively. He sat down beside him.

“Yeah, you’re Jean’s roommate’s friend, right?” Marco asked, trying for conversation.

“Uh, boyfriend,” Bert said, looking particularly sweaty.

Maybe he preferred to be alone, Marco wondered, observing the tall boy as he awkwardly leaned against the living room table. He looked around. The room was fairly empty, save for Ymir, Eren and themselves, everyone else was in the kitchen, prepping drinks and snacks.

“You’re Jean’s boyfriend right?”

Marco’s head had never whipped around quicker in his life.

“Uh, no, we’re not-” Marco stuttered, coming off more nervous than Bertholdt was.

“Oh! Sorry. I assumed since I always see you two together and Jean’s gay.”

“It’s cool,” Marco said, laughing it off.

Reiner entered the room, brandishing two cups in his hands. He shimmied over beside Bert, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Bert paled, eyes on his boyfriend.

“Chill on the PDA kids.”

Ymir was now standing, taking one of the cups from Reiner’s hand. Reiner rolled his eyes, throwing his arm around Bert. He looked over to Marco, his eyebrows moving up and down.

“Hey Marco, where’s Jean?”

Marco shrugged, trying to seem non-interested, nonchalant (non-obsessed). At that moment Jean decided to make an appearance.

“You better not be talking shit about me Reiner,” He called as he strode in, two cups in hand in similar fashion as Reiner had. Marco turned to him and took a cup wordlessly. Jean slouched onto the couch, sitting between the couple and Marco.

“Why are all the gays taking up the couch,” Eren stomped through the living room, performing an unrealistic balancing act of holding four cup, his angry attention directed toward the couch. “Oh wait, Marco’s there.”

Eren swung over Reiner’s outstretched legs and moved his face inches from Marco. “Be wary of the gays. Don’t let them get handsy.”

“Shut the fuck up Jaeger,” Jean kicked at him. Eren stumbled avoiding the kick (and somehow not spilling the drinks he was holding). Eren scowled, and moved over to Armin, depositing one of the cups on his head. Marco watched as Eren navigated the room, dropping cups off to Mikasa as she entered.

“What am I supposed to do with all these?” She asked softly, holding two cup and looking genuinely confused. Eren either didn’t hear her or ignored her as he moved away, plopping down besides Armin.

Marco smiled, observing everyone. He was enjoying himself. The week had definitely improved and, despite not knowing what he and Jean were, he was able to express how he felt without feeling entirely weird about it.

He looked down at his drink, at some point he had finished it. Before he could turn to ask Jean for another Mikasa appeared beside him, giving him her spare. She didn’t say anything as she did so, she just glanced over at Jean who was chatting animatedly with Connie.

“Sasha bring out the snacks!” Both Jean and Connie shouted simultaneously, obviously already tipsy. There was a ricocheting thud from the kitchen followed by cursing. Connie groaned, accepting this as his cue to help her.

Marco watched Jean, trying not to make it too obvious. Jean had hardly looked at him or interact with him the entire night. He wasn’t entirely upset (knowing it was mostly to keep their “ _thing_ ” private) but he still craved the attention Jean usually gave him (and his subtle flirting).

Marco took a large gulp of his drink and sidled over closer to Jean. 

* * *

 

 

Jean looked down at his lap, his phone glowing with a notification. He swiped the screen with his free hand, his other loosely gripping his drink. It was Marco.

Marco: [Meet me in the closet by the stairs in three minutes]

Jean squinted at the text, feeling pretty tipsy. Was he ignoring him too much? Jean felt Marco’s eyes on him, the skin of Marco’s arm touching his own. He didn’t turn and simply locked his phone and put it in his pocket.

Everybody was shuffling around talking and laughing, barely audible over the music (which had changed from indie music to heavy bass and electronic music). He tilted his head, touching Marco’s shoulder to briefly acknowledge him and turned back to listening to Reiner drunkenly tell Bert and Sasha a joke involving a tuba and toothpaste.

Typically his heart would be pounding if Marco had texted him to speak in private but the drinks he had squashed that, including the tightness in his gut from earlier in the day. Jean excused himself (not that anyone had noticed besides Mikasa) and headed down the main hallway.

He scuttled past Ymir and Christa, who were getting handsy by the front door. They took no notice of him. He moved around the steps and slipped into the closet.

And waited.

Several minutes passed. Standing in the closet alone (and almost drunk) wasn’t how he intended to spend the night. He glanced at his phone, hoping for a text. Nothing. A weird sensation filled his chest. Jean bit his lip, thinking about heading back to the party.

The door swung open and shut quickly as Marco slipped in, face flushed with color and glowing. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Jean (drink still in one hand, phone in the other). The feeling left his chest, as it always did around Marco, and he rested his forehead against Marcos.

“Sorry I took so long, Mikasa was watching us for some reason,” he slurred.

“It’s probably because you couldn’t stop staring at me,” Jean teased. Marco responded by pinching his side. Jean leapt, knocking over some small object to his right.

“I can barely fucking see,” Marco mumbled, his hands probing the open space of the closet. Jean grinned in the darkness of the closet, his smile barely visible to Marco. Seeing Marco drunk (and not emotionally compromised) was an enjoyable experience, especially with the swearing.

“So, why’d you call me in here?” Jean asked, rubbing his side where Marco pinched him.

“Can we makeout for a bit?”

Jean grinned wickedly “You’d think with how much you’ve been kissing me that you’re the gay one-” He stopped. Touchy subject.

Marco didn’t seem to mind, rolling his eyes at the comment. He pulled on Jean’s jacket and brought him closer, pressing his lips to Jean’s. For the first time in a long while they kissed gently, unlike the rushed, urgent kisses they had shared before.

Jean’s jacket slipped off his arms as he reached around Marco, pressing him lightly against the wall, twisting his hand through Marco’s short dark hair. Marco seemed to receive that positively, sliding his hand up the back of Jean’s shirt.

Jean could feel Marco smiling behind the kiss and pulled back, grinning back at him. “Don’t stop,” Marco muttered, pushing back and kissing on Jean’s neck. Jean’s eyes widened and he let out a squeak.

Marco pulled away from Jean’s neck.

“It’s really cute when you do that,” he whispered. Jean felt himself blushing for the first time since getting drunk. Marco called him cute.

Marco moved back in, sucking on his neck, Marco’s soft lips moving up and down his throat. The only things running through Jean’s mind were Marco’s lips and his words.

His words calling him _cute_.

“Ow,” Jean pulled back. “Freckles, you’re gonna give me a hickey.” Marco snorted, the mischievous gleam back in his eyes.

“ **GUYS WE’RE GONNA START THE GAME, C’MON**!” Eren’s voice filled the air.

Marco stumbled, startled, spilling half the contents of his drink onto the floor.

“Fuck.” He giggled, trying to observe the mess.

“C’mon,” Jean hissed, pushing him out of the closet.

The coast was clear as they moved out. Jean straightened out his clothes.

“Marco your hair is a mess,” he said, trying to pat it down with his hand. Marco stared back at him, wide-eyed.

“You should be more concerned with your neck,” he pointed out. Jean whipped out his phone, looking at his reflection. He had two huge red marks at the base of his throat. Jean groaned, slipping on his jacket and zipping it up. “I can’t even notice it now.”

“JEAN, YMIR, MARCO. COME ON!”

Jean rolled his eyes and followed Marco into the living room, Ymir coming around the corner and following them.

Everybody was crowded in the middle of the room, Eren began to explain the rules of the game when a knocking was heard from the front door. Ymir groaned and did a 180, heading back to the main room. Everyone watched as she lead three people in.

“Everyone, this Is Annie, Daz and Marlo.” Ymir said, sweeping a hand in the newcomers’ direction.

Jean paid no attention to Ymir, as he stared at Marco. Marco was staring at Marlo, the tall, study built male to the left of Ymir. Jean had to suppress the urge to snort at the boy’s bowlcut hair.

“Marlo,” Marco said firmly, seeming to meet the other boy’s eyes.

“B-B-Bodt. Hey, how’s it going?”

The fact that Marco chose to ignore the question went unnoticed to everyone but the two conversating. And Jean. Jean looked over to Marco, curious. Marco said nothing but followed Jean as everyone sat in a large circle to play whatever game Eren had decided on.

“Ymir, you first, truth or dare?” Eren asked.

Jean groaned internally, realizing what game they were playing.


	9. Chapter Nine: The Party (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist Tracks:  
> Talk by Big Deal  
> Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie  
> Stop and Stare by Fenech-Soler

“Dare.” Ymir yawned, seemingly unamused by Eren’s hijinks. Eren’s face scrunched as he tried to think of an appropriate dare. The circle got quiet as they awaited his dare. Eren frowned, glancing around the room.

“I dare you to shotgun a beer with the first person who says ‘truth’.” He announced, repressing laughter. A collective groan was heard throughout the room.

“Eren, you fuckin’ suck man.” Connie grumbled. Ymir shrugged coolly, to Eren’s disappointment.

“Your turn Annie.”

Annie was a short thin blond girl who look easily less interested than Ymir. She frowned with her hawk-like features, contemplating her choice.“Truth,” She stated, sitting up and pulling Ymir to grab a beer.

“Dammit Annie,” Ymir grumbled as she was pulled to the kitchen. She wiggled her fingers to Christa, who smiled in response.

Marco grinned, Christa and Ymir had such a simple and direct relationship. In a way he was envious. But at the same time he wasn’t sure what he wanted or how he felt so such a thing felt impossible. He looked over at Jean. Jean seemed lost in his own thoughts more than paying attention to the party. Marco brushed his fingertips against Jean’s arm as he grabbed his cup.

Jean didn’t turn to him but Marco saw as the corner of his lip curled up and the furrow in his brow loosen. Marco looked away, hoping nobody noticed the small gesture. Jean was so hard to read.

He frowned to himself. He was hard for Jean to read.

He looked up as Marlo began his turn. Marlo was considering his choice, eyes moving around the room and locking eyes with Marco for a split second. Marco looked away, staring down at his nearly empty cup.

“Dare.” Marlo muttered, raising a hand to tug on a strand of hair.

Eren frowned, looking to Ymir for a suggestion as she strode back in the room. She shrugged, wiping beer foam from her upper lip. Eren took a gulp of his drink with a determined expression on his face.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

Marco watched as Marlo coughed, eyes jumping from face to face. Marco picked up his cup and took a drink, well aware that Jean was watching him.

 

* * *

 

 

Jean watched as the bowlcut stranger moved forward and kissed Marco dead on the lips. The room immediately got quiet. Marco quickly dropped his cup and pushed Marlo back with both hands, standing up.

Jean fought every urge in his body to follow suit.

Marco grunted and turned, rushing out the front door and into the night.

“Marco, wait-” Marlo stood up. Jean stood up as well cutting him off. Jean wasn’t sure who this stranger was or what he was trying to do but he had no interest in it.

“Why don’t you go back to your game.” Jean said, more of an order than a suggestion. Marlo glanced from Jean to the rest of the party and sat down, busying himself with his beer. Jean glanced around, feeling drunk and foolish.

Everybody was avoiding his eyes. Everyone but Mikasa and Annie. Jean backed up, exiting the group and turned.

And he ran.

Past the kitchen door, where he felt himself begin to fall for Marco Bodt.

Past the porch railing where they shared their first real words that morning after.

Past his car, where Marco kissed him numerous times.

 

Jean stood in the middle of the road, shivering from the cold. Dammit it Freckles. He hopped in his car, fumbled with his keys and put on his seatbelt. From the corner of his eye he saw Mikasa run to his passenger door.

“Jean, give me your keys.”

He stared at her confused. Didn’t she realize Marco was out on his own in the cold somewhere, drunk? Even so, he didn’t let go of the keys.

“Jean.”

“M-Mikasa, he’s out there. I have to find him,” Jean muttered, not sure if he was stuttering from the cold or his inability to articulate how he felt.

“I’m sure he’d rather have you in one piece than being there for him.”

“How the hell would you know what Marco want,” Jean growled, his words coming out harsher than intended.

Mikasa looked away, bringing her scarf down from her mouth.

“I don’t. But I know you.” She looked back at him, her dark eyes giving nothing away.

Jean was silent. He could feel the keys cutting into his palm. He was gripping them too tightly.

He was gripping everything too tightly.

Marco was no exception.

“Mikasa, look-”

“I remember when we were younger,” Mikasa cut him off. “You were always so loud, brash…obnoxious. But there was always this- ball of joy in you. I remember it you had it even after the stuff between us and your ‘coming out’ period.”

Jean looked down, face burning. “Alright but what does that have to do with helping Marco?”

“Let me finish.” She said pointedly, eyeing his keys. “I haven’t seen that in you in a long time. Until Marco. I understand how much you care for him, we all have things, people we want to protect, just consider the cost. How far will you go to chase after him? How strong are you Jean?”

Jean pressed his forehead against the rim of the steering wheel. He didn’t want to admit she was right. He didn’t want to listen to her words. He didn’t want to think on them and have them hurt.

“How much have you had to drink Mikasa? You’re getting all soft.” He mumbled, dropping the keys in her hand. He slid out of the seat without another word and began heading down the road.

Mikasa stared after him.

“Do you even know where he is?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jean said, speaking to the empty cold air, trudging down the road.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco dropped the phone onto the grass beside him, turning to Jean as he walked over.

“You didn’t go far,” Jean mumbled, standing behind him.

Marco grunted. Jean walked around him, trying to see his face.

“Please don’t look at me Jean.” He whispered, turning away. He could feel Jean’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head. Marco shivered from the cold.

“What happened back there? What was all that about?”

He could hear the urgency in Jean’s voice.

“Jean, I’m drunk and tired and I just want to rest.” Marco forced out, staring at the ground. They were several yards down the street from Ymir’s house in an abandoned lot overrun with weeds. Marco couldn’t feel his legs which were tucked under him.

He could barely feel anything but upset.

“Marco.”

“I never did tell you the reason why I came to Stohess,” Marco whispered, just loud enough for Jean to hear. “It was trouble at my old school.”

He felt Jean sit down next to him. Marco rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, wiping away tears he didn’t want Jean to see.

“I wasn’t very popular, or well liked. I tried blending in but for some reason I seemed to stick out like a sore thumb to them. Guys like Tom.” He felt Jean stiffen at the name. “It started getting bad. Real bad. To the point where they got violent. Marlo was one of them. He went wherever Tom went, tossing me in trashcans, stealing my school things and the like.”

Marco took a deep breath. Saying it out loud and reliving it was hard. He hadn’t done so in so long. He wasn’t entire sure he wanted to now but the words just tumble out.

“They’d call me things like queer and faggot, making a point of intimidating anyone who got close to me. And I lived like that for a while. Then one day Marlo cornered me in the bathroom, calling me a queer and getting in my face. Tom wasn’t anywhere to be seen and at that point I had enough. I stood up to him, pushing him back and slamming him into the stall.

There was an odd moment after that happened and I thought I was a goner. And then out of nowhere Marlo was up against me grinding against me. And I don’t know why but I didn’t fight it. I didn’t have an interest in either guys or girls really, that being my first slightly intimate encounter. We were nearly kissing, but not quite, when Tom walked of all people.

Marlo began making accusations. They sounded believable and probably seemed true from Tom’s perspective. They ended up breaking my arm together and giving me a black eye. Marlo kept trying  to find me alone afterwards, apologizing and making excuses. It all stopped when I told him I wasn’t gay. I think he was scared I’d tell, I dunno. Things sucked, I left.

I tried to not let it bother me. I tried to pretend it never happened. Seeing Tom then, Marlo now. I can’t help but feel angry. I thought I was better than that, that I could be strong.

I was wrong.”

Marco stood up, not looking at Jean, staring down the road. Jean stood up quickly and put a hand on his shoulder.

And for some reason his touch hurt.

Marco shrugged him off, stepping back.

“I did this to myself, I don’t need you to comfort me or feel compelled or obligated to fight my fights.” He heard Jean take a step forward, though not making a motion to touch him again.

“You don’t need to fight any fights. I’m here for you, we can fix this together. Just let me-“

“I hope you don’t get mad when I say this,” Marco interrupted, turning to him. He didn’t care if Jean saw the tears in his eyes at this point. “But you aren’t a strong person.” Jean met his eyes, not saying anything.

Marco took a step back. “So you can relate to how the weak feel. You’re good at figuring out practically any situation. Isn't that why you immediately know what should be done?”

“What are you saying Marco?”

“I was so naïve to think this would work, that it wouldn’t be a mess. But you, Jean you knew all along that this wouldn’t work. That we wouldn’t work.”

“Marco, I can be strong enough for the both of us, just listen to me-”

“I don’t need your strength,” Marco said hollowly, not breaking eye contact. “I need my own and I can’t find it when I’m trying to figure out who I am. It isn’t me. I’m not even-”

Marco felt his voice begin to break.

Jean moved forward gripping his wrist, still staring into his eyes.

“Marco, things were so different earlier. Don’t do this, don’t lie to yourself…to me."  Jean was pleading now. His voice was renting a hole deeper and deeper into Marco’s chest.

“I used to be afraid of my ghosts catching up to haunt me,” Marco muttered, looking down at Jean’s hand on his wrist. “The ghost has been me all along and I never realized it.

I couldn’t ever be able to love you back Jean.”

Jean let go of Marco’s wrist. Marco felt it fall limply to his side. Marco watched as Jean began walking backwards.

“I l-l-loved you Marco,” He stammered. “ I really-”

He turned and sprinted in the opposite direction without another word. Marco stared after him until his silhouette was no longer visible in the night and he disappeared into the dark.

The same dark that seemed to be filling his chest.

Marco bit his lip, trying to cry. He fell to the ground, coughing, trying to suppress further sobbing. I can’t cry, he told himself, I need to be stronger than this. He balled his fists punching the ground.

Why couldn’t he be stronger?

Why didn’t he know himself?

Feeling as he had been physically torn in half, Marco fell to the ground and the tears began pouring.

 

* * *

 

 

“Get in,” Mikasa flung the door open. Jean pulled his jacket closer, staring.

“H-h-haven’t you been drinking?”  She shook her head. Jean slid into the passenger seat of his car without another word, thankful for the warmth.

“I’m taking you home.”

Jean didn’t protest. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He watched as she pulled his bag from under the seat, dropping it on his lap. Jean clutched it closely.

“Mikasa, I-”

“You don’t need to explain anything.” She muttered, eyes on the road. Jean flinched at the words; the same words he said to Marco the other day. He dug around in his bag.

“That’s a bad idea,” Mikasa pressed. Jean ignored her, twisting off the cap to his bottle of whiskey. He felt her eyes as he took a swig. And another.

“Maybe I should go back,” Jean grumbled, glaring at the rearview mirror.

“Marco’s already asleep, what do you hope to accomplish? Make him feel worse?”

Him? Feel worse? Jean grimaced at the words. Couldn’t she tell that he was hurting? He took another drink. A sharp pain filled his hand and he turned it over in the moonlight.

“You did that to yourself.” Mikasa said tonelessly. Jean laughed hollowly. Those words could apply to any number of things. He frowned at the deep cut on his hand from when he was gripping the keys too tightly. He frowned at the smeared blood on his palm. He frowned at everything that had happened that night.

He brought the bottle to his lips again.

 

Jean stumbled into his room, throwing his keys in the direction of his desk.

“What the fuck are you doing back?”

He looked up to see Reiner, half hanging off his bed. He was the perfect portrait of a drunken mess; his clothes semi-off and dishelved, his eyes slightly drooped. Jean ignored him, throwing himself on his bed without a word.

“ _Jean._ ”

Jean frowned. Reiner rarely used his first name. He lifted his head from his pillow.

“What.”

“Bert’s gonna be back in a few minutes...”

Jean frowned at the implication. He had nowhere else to go and honestly no interest moving at this point. He pulled his pillow over his head.

“Tough luck.”

Reiner didn’t respond for a minute, instead he slid off the top bunk and stood beside the bed. Jean looked up at him from under the pillow.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t tell me you drove back,” Reiner said, Jean rolled his eyes at Reiner’s obvious displeasure.

“No, Mikasa drove me back. You?”

“Bert.”

Jean grunted in response, pulling the pillow further over his eyes. He felt a prodding sensation in his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

“I’m drunk and I just want to sleep.”

He heard Reiner shuffle around the room, the crinkle of plastic muffled from through the pillow. Jean lifted it up again, peering at Reiner. Reiner stood over him, offering him a bottle of water. “I’ll go to Bert’s place tonight so you can sleep, feel better.” 

Jean accepted the water bottle and pressed his face into the pillow. He muttered a muffled thanks. He heard Reiner moving around the room, presumably packing things up.

Jean sat up and raised a shaky hand, trying to uncap the water bottle.

He willed his hands to listen. He willed everything in his life to start making sense.

He willed himself to stop hurting.

He tried to suppress a sob but the sound tore through his throat and the bottle slip through his finger and rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Reiner dropped his bag, looking down at Jean.

“D-d-don’t look at me.” Jean stuttered, throwing his arms up drunkenly in front of his face.

Marco’s words from earlier resonated in his head. Please don’t look at me Jean. Another sob left his chest and Jean soon found himself shaking, tears flowing from his face.

Reiner dunked down, moving onto the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around Jean. His deep voice was whispering words of comfort but they fell on deaf ears. Reiner pulled him to his chest, stilling Jean’s shaking.

Jean sat like that for several minutes trying to regain composure.

It was for another few minutes until Jean was able to speak.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s all good. Go, Bert’s waiting for you.”

“He’ll understand.” Reiner said simply, sitting back. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but don’t think holding it in will make it any better.” Jean nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re not incredibly close,” Reiner continued, “But I’ve known you for a good while Jean. Hiding your emotions isn’t what keeps you strong; it’s coming to terms with them.”

Why did he have to be strong? Why did everyone expect that from him? He nodded, laying down, barely feeling any different than he had moments earlier.

“Let me know if you need anything, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jean couldn’t help but feel a tug of relief at Reiner’s words. He nodded. Reiner uncapped the water bottle and passed it to him.

“Night Jean.”

 

Jean woke up, the sound of his phone ringing filled his ear. He grunted at the sound. He looked around his room but could only see the light from his phone across the room.

“Go back to sleep Jean, I’ve got it.”

Jean smiled lightly at Reiner’s voice and fell back asleep.

 

“He’s asleep and I have a feeling he doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Jean rolled over to a dark room, Reiner was at the door clad in his underwear blocking whoever he was talking to. Jean rolled back over, pushing his face deeper into his pillow. Reiner was half right.

“Reiner, please.”

Marco. It was _Marco’s_ voice.

It took every fiber in Jean’s being not to hurtle himself out of bed. He took a deep breath and rolled back over, pushing away the tightness in his chest.

And he fell back asleep once more.


	10. Chapter Ten: Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Conclusion to the first Arc of the Stohess Chronicles.  
> I hope you all enjoyed it and stay tuned for part two!

“He’ll need to come out of his room eventually,” Mikasa mumbled through her scarf. Mikasa and Marco were sitting in the sculpture garden, ignoring the swarms of students moving from class to class and attempting to study. Marco scooted down the bench to pass Mikasa her textbooks.

Marco frowned, he had only seen Jean on occasion in passing, no words exchanged between the two. Midterms had quickly flowed into finals and snow replaced the crispy leaves on the ground. Everything felt like it was changing and Marco was stuck in time.

“I think you’re getting taller than him now,” she mumbled, observing Marco as he stretched in the cold. Marco rolled his eyes.

“Can we stop talking about J-Jean?” The name caught in his throat.

“Fine, how was your Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t want to talk about that either.”

“God, you’re so frustrating Marco, you know that?” She stood up, textbooks cradles in one arm. Marco watched as she waved to Eren. Eren was sluggishly dragging himself through the doors, Armin following brightly at his heels talking. Mikasa said a quick goodbye and skirted off in their direction.

“Hey Marco.”

Marco turned. Marlo was standing beside the sculpture smiling hesitantly at him. Marco frowned up at him and turned back to his books, not speaking. Marlo took that as an invitation and sat down.

“When will you leave me alone?” Marco muttered, suddenly interested in bench he was sitting on.

“When will you give me a chance?”

“I’m not interested.”

He heard Marlo force a cough. Marco turned, squinting suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“Last time you said you weren’t gay. This time ‘not interested’.”

Marco stood up quickly, face burning from the cold and Marlo’s observation. He grabbed his bag and camera and turned.

Marlo reached out and grabbed onto his sweater sleeve.

Please stop, Marco pleaded internally. He turned and faced Marlo.

“What will it take for you to stop following me around and apologizing and basically being a pain?”

Marlo winced, clearly stung. Marco didn’t feel a sliver of guilt.

“One date.”

“Out of the question.”

“I’ll never speak to you again. I promise.”

“Goodbye Marlo.”

Marco tugged his sleeve out of the boy’s grasp and quickly hurried across the garden toward the dorms. What was his deal? Why did he even transfer to Stohess? Marco sighed, his breath floating in his face in the cold.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t have warning when he collided with two students entering the building. Marco stumbled, throwing an arm out to save himself from slipping on the cold steps.

In a swirl of movement an arm reached out for his own, grasping him at the wrist.

“M-M-“

“Marco!” Sasha squealed, grinning widely. She tossed down her archery bag and flung her arms around him. Jean stood beside her, stonefaced, his hand still around Marco’s wrist. He looked down at his own hand and quickly let go, stepping back.

“Hey, guys.” Marco said cautiously.

“We h-h-have to go.” Jean said to Sasha, and turned to head up the steps.

“Wait Jean-Bean.”

Jean rotated, fueled by his repulsion of the nickname. He flicked Sasha on the back of the head.

“I’m telling Connie!”

He flicked her again. She frowned as he picked up her bag.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He looked up at Marco, who Sasha just released from her grasp.

“It was good to see you Freckles.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

Marco stood there in the cold.

 

“I thought you weren’t friends with Marlo?” Connie asked, tossing a paperball across the room at Marco. Marco frowned at the name. “You’re gonna get frown lines Freckles.”

“Stop calling me that. And I’m not.” Marco grumbled, looking back down at his essay.

“Oh, he stopped by earlier.”

Marco paled. This was getting out of hand. He could only imagine if word got back to the others. Especially Jean.

 

“Stay away from my room.” Marco hissed, passing Marlo in class and huffily stomping over to his seat. Marlo uprooted his things and glided over to Marco’s desk.

“What are you so afraid of? Everyone’s so accepting at Stohess and you’re hiding yourself away for some reason. Is it that Jean guy?”

Marco nearly snapped his pen.

“Don’t talk to me about him. And I’m not interested in people, I have studies to worry about.”

“Fine. A date over winter break? We both know you won’t be busy.”

Marco’s pencil splintered in his hand. Marlo stepped back.

“Sorry, that was pushing it-“

“You think?!” Marco growled a little too loudly. “What are you playing at? Trying to make me uncomfortable and angry enough to consider dating you? I don’t see that happening.”

“No, I’m just trying to be friendly and fucking it up. I want us to be friends.”

Marco swallowed, brushing the pencil under the desk.

“Well you kind of ruined your chance at that.” He stood up and headed out the door. He could feel Marlo pursuing him.

This guy was going to ruin his life all over again.

 

Jean looked up from his book to hear Marco’s voice rise over the others in class. Marco stood up and headed out the classroom with Marlo.

It was like a punch in the gut.

Jean gripped the side of his desk.

I’m over it. I’m over it. I’m

Marco’s hand on his arm. Marco’s words in his ears.

The memories were slowly starting to have less and less of an effect and he couldn’t get calm. He bit his lip. He hated how the very thing upsetting him was also the thing to calm him.

‘I hope you don’t get mad when I say this, but you’re not a strong person.’

He was strong. He went so long without Marco.

He didn’t need Marco.

Jean’s stomach flipped. He grabbed his things and made his way around the back of the lecture hall and slipped into the hall.

All I wanna do is talk but seeing you fucks me up, Jean thought bitterly, pressing his head against the cold, smooth stone wall.

 

“Stop following me.”

“Stop hiding your feelings.”

Marco punched the wall and turned to Marlo. Marlos didn’t react to the sudden act of violence but watched curiously.

“That’s a step.”

“Next time it’s going in your face.”

Marco couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“You sound like you have some things you need to sort out,” Marlo said, unfazed. He walked around Marco, taking his hand in his own and inspecting the damage.

“I’m fine.” Marco said, but didn’t pull his hand away. He looked down the hallway.

Jean was standing at the door, bag in hand, staring blankly.

Marco wretched his hand from Marlo’s. Fuck.

Marlo looked down the hall and saw Jean.  Marco looked away, feeling Marlo’s gaze shift from Jean to Marco. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it earlier.”

Marco turned back. Jean was gone. “What?”

“You’re in love with him aren’t you?” Marlo mumbled, stepping back. “I was too late.”

Marco flinched at the words. They couldn’t be true. Marlo had no clue what he was talking about.

“If it’s not true, then kiss me. Once. That’s all.” Marlo whispered, moving closer to Marco.

“Hey, fuck off!”

Marco and Marlo turned simultaneously. Reiner was walking down the hall briskly, his hulking form larger from the bundled layers on him. Marlo stepped back warily.

“This dude messing with you Marco?” Reiner asked, looking down at Marlo.

“Hey Reiner, it’s all good,” Marlo said, smiling.

Reiner ignored this and looked to Marco.

“Actually yes.” Marco said, not breaking eye contact with Marlo.

Reiner reached out, gripping Marlo’s shirt.

“I don’t care if you’re a friend of Annies or not. I will crush you between my hands.” Reiner stated coldly.

Marlo nodded and backed up when Reiner released him.

“Let’s go Marco.” Reiner grumbled, looking Marlo up and down.

“It’s not my fault that you reject everyone who’s ever cared about you,” Marlo whispered in Marco’s ear as he walked by.

Reiner snorted and bumped his shoulder against Marlo, who stumbled against the wall for a moment.

“Thank,” Marco muttered when Marlo was out of earshot.

“I have a feeling he was used to getting his way wherever he came from,” Reiner said back. “And besides, I didn’t do it for you.”

“Hmm? Who did you do it for?”

Reiner didn’t reply but continued down the hall. Marco called after him.

“Should I speak to him?”

“Yeah, but you won’t.” Reiner replied, turning the corner.

 

“I can’t believe you only have ‘ave an essay for your only final,” Connie groaned, rolling around in his bed. Marco laughed, setting the final draft onto the table.

“Wanna celebrate?”

“Sorry, I’ve got work to do.” Connie dragged out another groan. “Why don’t you hangout with-” He trailed off, glancing at Marco to see if he caught on.

Marco said nothing.

“When are you going home for break? Ymir might throw one last party,” Connie implored, peering over his fortress of textbooks.

Marco swallowed. “I’m not going home.”

“Why’s that?”

A sharp tapping filled the room as someone knocked on the door. Marco slid back from the desk and answered it,

Marlo stood at the door.

Marco shut it.

“Who was that?” Connie asked.

“Wrong dorm,” Marco lied, moving back to the desk.

Another knock, firmer this time.

Connie leaned over the side of the bed, raising his eyebrows.

Marco shrugged and moved to the door, slipping into the hall. He glared at Marlo.

“Please, please leave me alone.”

“I am.” He said. Marco sighed. “On one condition.” Marco scowled.

“What.”

“Before the year is up you have to tell Jean how you feel about him.”

Marco paled.  He looked up and down the hallway.

“Why are you so fixated on me coming out. I’m not interested in being gay or even date anyone. I have more pressing things to worry about.”

“It’s not like you have parents or friends to disappoint by coming out.” Marlo said coldly. Marco stepped back, hand on the doorknob. “You know it’s true.”

“Why did you come here? To make my life worse?” Marco said, eyes stinging lightly.

“I came here to fix what I did. I didn’t come here initially to do so though,” Marlo said, pulling at his hair, avoiding Marco’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents kicked me out. I lost all my friends. That’s why I’m living here. That’s why I don’t understand how someone like you, with no parents, no judgmental friends, isn’t even able to admit to himself who he is.

I lost everything and there’s no way-”

Marco released the doorhandle.

“No. You did that to yourself, don’t expect pity or sympathy for me. You made it worse when you began to target the only people who could possibly understand you. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Marlo stared back at him. He seemed to be thinking things over.

“Fine, I’ll be out of your life. Just answer my question.”

“What is so important for you to know?”

“Why aren’t you willing to admit that you’re gay?” Marco stared back at Marlo, soaking the words in.

“I think-” He broke off, frowning, “I think I’m mostly afraid of being hurt and hurting those I care about.”

“You know that won’t happen,” Marlo whispered. “Things were different back then, we were naïve.”

“What do I do?” Marco asked himself aloud. Marlo placed a hand on his arm. Marco momentarily flinched but didn’t pull away. He looked up at Marlo, almost as if seeing him for the first time.

He was scared too. He lost his family, friends and home like Marco had but he was still able to come to terms with who he was, even if he was an annoying, life-ruining asshole.

“Tell Jean how you feel about him. Stop trying to protect him, stop trying to protect yourself. Sometimes true strength is being able to admit you’re not.”

Marco nodded, not speaking for fear his voice might crack.

Marlo sighed. “Sorry about all the trouble I’ve given you, back then and now. I was really lonely and kind of had an idea how you were feeling.”

“This feels more like an apology than any attempt you’ve ever made,” Marco mumbled, looking away, his head racing with words and things he needed to say, things he needed to do. Marlo shrugged.

Marlo headed down the hallway but stopped ,looking back at Marco. “If you don’t have anywhere to go over break I’ll still be here if you need company. And  I’m sorry about your parents. I know I never said it back then but I really am.”

Marco grunted, rubbing at his eyes. He might be ready to accept Marlo’s apology but spending time with him would be tough. Marlo nodded, accepting silence as a response. Marco entered his dorm to Connie’s short form standing by the door, wide-eyed.

“How much of that did you hear Baldie?”

“Uh, all of it? Are you gay? Was he your boyfriend? You like Jean? You don’t have parents? How do I not know these things I live with you?!”

Marco groaned.

“I guess I am.” He mumbled. Connie didn’t react. “And no he wasn’t. How I feel about Jean isn’t important because it’s not going to happen and no, I don’t have parent, I lost them a few years back.”

“Is that why you live here?” Connie asked, oddly intrigued by Marco’s life.

“Yeah, and problems at my old school I guess.” Marco said his heart in his throat. It was so odd to say these things freely. It was even stranger to not feel as though he was being judged for opening up.

“You never struck me as gay, if that makes you feel any better.” Connie said, rummaging through the room. Marco looked over his shoulder, trying to see what he was looking for.

“Thanks?” He said quizzically.

Connie bounced up, brandishing a large pack of beer.

“Connie, that’s practically larger than you.” Marco said, staring warily at the large box.

“We’re celebrating.” He said, pushing a beer to Marco.

“Celebrating what?”

“Life?” Connie said, sounding unsure of himself.

“We’re not celebrating me coming out.” Marco said, furrowing his brows. Connie shrugged.

“I’m texting everyone to come over.”

“We can barely fit in here ourselves Connie.” Connie plugged his ears, pretending to not hear him. Marco sighed and collapsed onto his bed. Connie pulled his fingers out.

“I won’t tell anyone, it’s your business.”

“You say that, but wait til you’re drunk.” Marco said into his pillow. He hear Connie snigger and the sound of his phone vibrate with responses.

“Can I invite Jean?”

“There’s something I have to do first,” Marco said, sitting up. Connie raised his eyebrows. Marco popped open his beer, taking a large gulp.

Oh god, that’s gross. Marco grimaced, placing the bottle on his desk. No wonder why Jean introduced him to liquor instead. Connie grinned at Marco’s expression before taking a bigger gulp of his own.

 

 

Jean hopped out of his car, gripping his carton of Chinese food and keys carefully in one hand. His phone vibrated against his thigh. Fuck, Jean said under his breath. He shut his car door and pulled his phone out.

Marco: [Can we talk?]

Jean nearly dropped his phone.

 

Jean watched as Marco trudged through the snow towards the center of the sculpture garden, his scarf covering his freckled face partially, his body bundled from the cold.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hey.”

Jean wasn’t sure how to feel. He was standing a foot away from the boy he fell in love with and after all this time it felt like nothing changed. Don’t forget how he made you feel, Jean reminded himself. He put his hands in his pocket and looked away.

“So, what’d you want to talk about?” Jean mumbled.

“You’re mumbling Jean.”

“You’re staring.” He met Marco’s eyes. They were glossly, almost teary. Jean coughed and broke eye contact. He made a point of looking at his watch (a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Marco).

“Uhm, are you free tonight?”

“What is this about Marco? After all this time and you want to talk? And here of all places?”

He could feel Marco flinch from his words.

“This was a mistake.” Marco said, walking backwards, face red. Jean reached out, grabbing his arm.

“What’s a mistake is whatever we had.” Jean said firmly. Marco looked down at Jean’s hand around his wrist. “Sorry.” Jean let go.

“Does that mean that you want to start over?” Marco asked, not looking up from Jean’s hand. “As friends, I mean.”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know who you are.” Jean said, the words coming out more bitterly than he intended. Marco didn’t flinch or back away from them.

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself. I said some hurtful things to you, things I didn’t mean.  And they were all because of things I didn’t understand, things that weren’t your fault. I’m sorry Jean.”

Jean raised his hand, tilting Marco’s face up to meet his.

“You got a growth spurt since I last saw you,” He mumbled, hand still holding up Marco’s chin.

“Are you not going to say anything?” Marco’s eyes were brimming with tears.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Jean whispered.

I still need to forgive myself for walking away that night, Jean said to himself.  Marco backed up, out of Jean’s hand, and adjusted his clothes, taking a deep breath.

“Jean, I need to tell you something.”

Jean raised his eyebrows, unintentionally frowning.

“That wasn’t it?”

“No, Jean. I’m gay.”

They stood in silence, both staring at each other. Jean couldn’t feel the cold. He couldn’t feel much of anything. He nodded at Marco, unsure of how to react. Should he act casual about it? Overjoyed? He scanned Marco’s face for a hint but Marco seemed to be watching his own for a sign.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” Jean mumbled, looking away.

“I think that’s because you never really knew the real me.” Marco said almost guiltily. Jean didn’t look up, not wanting to confirm the words Marco just said.

“Well, where does that leave us?” Jean asked, his chest tight.

“Well, a few of the guys are going back to my place, just drinking, I dunno, wanna tag along?” Marco asked, shrugging.

Jean pinched Marco. “That’s not what I meant.”

Marco grinned through the pain, “You can’t pinch me, that’s my thing.”

“Whatever you say Freckles, I’m down though.”

The two of them trudged through the snow, side by side and back into the warmth,

 

“Took you long enough,” Reiner grumbled as they walked through the door. Jean shook his wet scarf at his roommate. Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Reiner, Bert, Connie and Sasha all managed to sardine their way into Marco’s dorm room.

From the looks of it, Connie had shoved a lot of the mess into the closet. Marco was surprised at how clean the room appeared within the amount of time he was gone. Connie went over to the mini fridge and tossed Jean and Marco beers. Both grimaced and then laughed at the shared expression.

Marco set his beer down and turned to Jean.

“Can I say one more thing to you in the hall real quick?” Jean nodded, tossing his beer to Sasha. Marco followed Jean outside.

Marco took a deep breath. It was going to be hard to articulate what he felt but he wanted to do so without having to have alcohol in his system.

“The thing we had before was messy and weird but I liked it, can you give me another chance? You don’t have to answer now, I just want to say how I felt before getting drunk and emotional and we both know that doesn’t work out especially since I’m a huge mess and it’s never-”

“Marco.”

Marco took a breath. “Yes Jean?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” Marco said, blushing.

“Don’t worry,” Jean laughed, “I like hearing you talk.”

“Gross.” Marco mocked, crinkling his nose.

“You’re gross,” Jean pouted.

Marco grinned. It felt so natural to fall back into sync with Jean.

“I’m not completely ready to be out to everyone but I want to take steps towards it,” Marco added.

“Whatever it takes.” Jean replied seriously “You should hear the mess of my coming out story.”

Marco grinned. That was definitely something he’d want to hear.

“One more thing,” Marco said, grinning.

Jean rolled his eyes. “What else did you forget?”

“This.” Marco leaned forward…

Jean and Marco locked lips, Marco wrapping his arms around Jean, pulling him closer. Marco’s growth was more evident as he easily met Jean’s lips, pushing back against them. Jean put a glove hand up to Marco’s face, cupping it, Marco’s warmth filling him.

Marco grunted against Jean’s lips. Jean broke the kiss with a smirk. “Were you trying to say something?”

Marco nodded, face burning red.

“What now Freckles?” Marco tilted his head.

Jean turned around. “Oh.”

Marco watched as he turned to the open door, Sasha holding it wide open in one hand, mouth agape. Everyone in the room sat in silence, staring at them. Marco could feel his face burning.

“Did I miss a memo or something?” Eren said, sipping on his beer. The room broke out in laughter, even Mikasa giggling alongside the others.

“You guys are such idiots,” She said, through tears of laughter. Eren snorted. “You too Eren.”

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag.” Marco grumbled. Despite this, he couldn’t force the idiotic grin off of his face. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto his desk, walking in with Jean. He felt Jean’s hand at his side.  

Marco took a deep breath. This was taking steps.

He took Jean’s hand into his own, curling his fingers around it. He felt Jean’s surprise, as he had jolted slightly. Jean’s grip tightened reassuringly.

“This is so cute,” Bert said.

Reiner rolled his eyes, smacking his boyfriend on the back of the head.

“What? It is!”

Jean took his beer from Sasha and sat down with Marco. It was an odd sensation. He leaned his head against Marco’s shoulder. Marco smiled to himself. Everything they had gone through and all the complication had worked out in the end.

“There’s so much more I want to say,” Marco mumbled into his ear.

“Same,” Jean whispered back. He felt Marco squeeze his hand lightly.

“Until then will you wait it out with me?”

Jean nodded against him. “I promise Freckles.”

“So that means you’ll be my boyfriend?”

Jean sat up grinning. “Of course, Marco.”

“I’m feeling really single right now.” Eren grumbled from across the room, glaring at all the couples.

“What are you talking about Eren? You have us.”

“Shut up Armin.”

“Don’t tell Armin to shut up.” Mikasa scolded.

“Sorry Mikasa.”

Everyone laughed. Marco could feel Jean against him, laughter reverberating through his body. He wasn’t completely sure who he was or what he wanted in life but he knew who he wanted to figure it out with. As much as he wouldn’t have wanted to admit it before, he felt complete with Jean by his side.

“You know you complete me right?” He mumbled against Jean, watching the others jumping around making ruckus.

“I’m the better half though, right?” Jean said, laughing lightly.

“Of course, Jean, of course.”

Jean lifted up his head, grinning back at Marco.

“You’re your better half, Freckles.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on Marco’s lips.

Marco nodded, eating up Jean’s words. Maybe he just needed to complete himself to share and protect those he cared about. Maybe that was the kind of strength they both needed. If that was the case, they were the strongest people he knew.

Marco leaned up against Jean, holding onto his hand tightly.

Whatever they were and whatever they needed, Marco was sure they’d find it.

 

 

 


End file.
